Noobies VÜ

Hello childrens,
Today's post is one I have been thinking about for some time, but not so much in blog form, more so in cartoon. But alas, I am not an illustrator and would have difficulty in bringing forth this concept in a single- or even, multi-panel comic. Is there a difference between comic and cartoon? Imma look that up. hold on... apparently it would be more accurate to say cartoon. The more you knoowwwww.

So anyhoo, as many of you know I have someone living in the house that is still fully in his teens. I have many friends in their teens, but I haven't really spent the amount of time with them that I have with him. It's kind of illuminating. But I've almost decided also sorta sad.

I would say he is a true child of technology. It's like he's got a tether to his phone and/or Facebook. It's a constant in his life. It's almost like he sprang from the head of Google fully formed. He has a far better grasp of Teh Interwebs and their concomitant peer-to-peer social networks, than I do after having been trained and making a living teaching it to people for the last 4 years. It's somewhat scary. I don't think it would be hyperbole to say that I think he would literally go into withdrawal were he to be away from his phone or internet access for any length of time.

Is that bad? I rather think so: anything that, when removed, causes a negative reaction can be defined as an addiction.

This is the thing: when driving down the road he seems to have blinders on. If he doesn't have his phone up to his nose he pretty much just stares down the road. No external stimuli seems to get through. If I point out a vehicle/sign/etc it takes him minutes to react, and he rarely sees the vehicle/sign/etc in question; unless we're stopped beside it.

Noticed the same thing this morning, hot guy getting his bike off the bus. I noticed him from over a block away. I attempted to bring this fellow to his attention, (as I thought he might be someone he too could enjoy looking at) it was akin to pointing out the melting point of steel; no reaction, no comment, and I doubt he even heard me.

So is it deleterious that he seems to live life through a 3.5" screen? I think so. So many things seem to go on around him, and probably others of his ilk, without so much as a mention or raised eyebrow. I watched a fellow cram a case of empties into a trash can at the Mirastar at Walmart yesterday. And I mean CRAM; he fought it! He put on these fussy little gloves (probably to keep the diesel smell off his hands) and then rounded up a bunch of trash from his truck and proceeded to throw it away. I was entertained watching him shove what amounted to a bowling ball through softball sized hole. (this is almost akin to birth, no? not to minimize birth as that the size discrepancies are much greater) This guy did everything short of standing on the box to get it in the trash can; beating, slamming, pushing, nudging, coercing. I chuckled, (this is one of those arbitrary logic tests life seems to send to us.) with the knowledge that had he simply pulled the top off the can he could have easily placed the box into it. Anyhoo, I glanced over at my young friend and he was oblivious to the goings on; eyes intently staring at his cellphone that was millimeters from his face. (he later pointed out he didn't have his glasses on natch)

This, as I mention with the instances above, is common with him. It seems if it doesn't happen online, it doesn't matter, nor perhaps, does it really exist. What else could he be missing? What else could all people who are so attached to their technology be missing? I'm not a Luddite, I rather enjoy technology. But when does it become a crutch? When we mention stopping and smelling the roses, how soon will there come a reply, "Why? I have an app for that."

So that's my concern. Are we becoming a race of beings that will soon only interact through digital and artificial means? I know our parents were concerned with our dependence on video games and tv and the like, just as theirs were probably concerned about a whole host of distractions. This is not a new phenomenon, though, like technology and its doubling at a shorter rate each time, it is getting more and more insidious and invasive. There is so much to see, touch, taste, and smell, that to try and get those experiences from a wafer of silicone, is such a tragic "advancement" in life.

My cartoon? I envisage a couple panels showing a car crashing into a home, and a ufo landing and little green men rescuing all the people inside the vehicle and home and then by some mystic power ray restoring everything in sight to its former glory. All of this witnessed by a couple of people in a car, one with his mouth agape and gobsmacked by what he witnessed. The other with a smart phone or netpad who comments excitedly, "Oh my god, did you just see that!? The new Breaking Dawn trailer is awesome! That movie is going to rock!"

Hello gentle readers!
There has been a mystery brewing at casa de crazy.
For weeks I have seen these flipflops sitting by my speaker in my living room and have been meaning to chastise one young master Wilkey about his lack of care when it comes to leaving his thongs about. Never mind the 4 pair of sneaks and 2 pair of flipflops I have in the living room. This is not the point, the point is his flipflops that he has refused to remove to his room for weeks now!



Last night he had the gall to try and blame the flipflop disaster on ME! How dare he?! These are not my flipflops. I am quite certain that I watched him cast them aside some time ago. But he repudiates me and claims that they are mine and not his. This will not stand!

BUT allowing that they are not his, nor mine, nor J-rock's or Erik's, the question remains, who the fuck owns these flipflops? Who came to our house attired in footwear then stole away into the night abandoning them? And if they did not do so consciously, how could they not notice that they weren't wearing them?

We had a bit of a party when we first moved in but I don't recall seeing them there until well after Corey moved in. (I still say they are his) Perhaps at said party somebody got wrecked and walked away without them. Who knows? So I now come to you 2 or 3 people that read this blog to look at these things and hopefully explain the mystery that has plagued this house for, oh 11 hours now, and bring peace back into our home.


PLEASE peruse the image I thoughtfully attached here and if they are your shoes let us know. IF you recognize them as belonging to someone you know, tell them. I don't care if they continue to languish here or if I am instructed to toss them, or if they are retrieved, it's the knowing who they belong to that matters to me.

Please people, we cannot rest until the rightful owner Corey claims these things. So now I shall leave you to it. I think I shall have a sammich and a nap.

Well, I have to say I am quite lucky. Went to catch a movie, the craptastic Airbender, and once we got to the theater my friend pointed out my rear tire on my motorcycle. I had noticed before that my tire was getting a little bare and would need to be replaced, but I had NO idea.


Note the lovely belts showing through on the left. Apparently, I take a lot of left hand turns.
I have had belts show on cars but we're talking about 4000 pounds of metal and glass that protects you from most injuries you can get when you suffer a blow out. Not so much on a 600 lb motorcycle.
I nursed Pandora home (didn't go to the movie, I might watch it someday but it turns out it was only in 3D there, not gonna watch it in that for sure) and hit the interwebs for a suitable replacement and I happened on this fabulousness.

I don't have a Lambo but I can ride on the same tires. They are called Pirelli Angel STs. (note the angel embossed in the tread- apparently AGAIN? stupid word it goes away after 650 miles and becomes the "demon" ooooo. Had excellent reviews! And with the fancy-factor, I'm on!
My original tires, Bridgestone BT021 Battlax barely made 5000 miles. These are hopefully good for 7500. (From what I have read that's pretty good for a motorcycle)
So I made it home, no crashing, no blowouts and I'm excited for my new shoes!

This next might run the risk of offending a select few. This is not my intention, I am just here to spread the news of "the real". As a gay I cannot stand idly by and let boys (or men, guido's, douchebags, etc) live in denial or ignorance.
While it is a good idea to keep your face nice and toned with eyebrows (yes, there should be two to match the accompanying eyes) that don't look like a couple horny caterpillars marching across your forehead. But, there should be a limit.
Lately I keep seeing boys with eyebrows waxed to within millimeters of non-existence. You know if you're standing next to Pamela Anderson and people keep mistaking her for Brooke Shields, you might want to ease up on the tweezing. Just saying.


There was a server at my favorite Thai restaurant here in lovely St. George whose eyebrows became tragic. Good looking kid, but the eyebrows did him no favors. They looked like apostrophes set on their sides.
I watch TV and see this going on too. The eyebrows should look natural, not like a tweaker after a weeklong binge held you down and attacked you with a weedeater.
Manscaping, among other things, involves cleaning up the stray hairs and giving the brows a nice shape while holding to the natural contours that they have. They aren't supposed to be tortured.
It kills me the most when I go to the gym and see the big beefy guys with eyebrows that would make Marlena Dietrich feel like Groucho Marx. I mean, really? You think that is a good look for you?



So, for the love of all things that are holy guys, if you come out of the salon looking like one of these guys, fire the person who just assaulted your face.

This isn't limited to just guys of course, chicks in this town can be ridiculous as well. Sometimes it's just a need for practice. One girl I knew kept trying to even them up, "oops too far in, better adjust the other to match, oops, now gotta go back, oops, oops, damnit!" Girl's eyebrows started mid-pupil and ended at the corner, looked like she used a Magic Marker. You could put your whole hand between them, no shape at all. Sad, just sad.