I Draw Faces

Rarely. This is the first one I've done in 8+ years.

The Drop Trilogy in One Post

In the exercise of attempting to write some of the stories I only tell after having a few drinks to people who hopefully have had more, I'm updating the blog.

BE WARNED: This post isn't suitable for everyone anyone. I STRONGLY suggest you drink a few before reading this, or come back when you're ready for a poop story. This post has alot to do with poop.

Prologue

About 7 or 8 years ago, my buddy Nate was visiting Salt Lake City from San Diego. To celebrate, a group of us planned on meeting up for dinner at an Indian restaurant downtown, then going bar hopping. We carpooled into the city, parked and walked about a half block to the restaurant. Upon approaching the restaurant, we passed an alley complete with requisite dumpster, graffiti-lined walls and an oily puddle of water filling the middle of it. Trying to be clever, but mostly just being insensitive and ignorant, I joked as we passed the alley that it was where hobos would probably go to shit. Oh, the wit! I hate me sometimes.

My Dog the Dick.

This is my dog, Arlo:

He's a dick.

Well, technically, he's a bull mastiff...

...that acts like a dick.

I know. You're upset. He's cute...look at that face! He wears a neckerchief so handsomely. How dapper! How lovable! Well, yes. Those are all true statements. But, please. Let me present my case...

Exhibit A - Horrible Wing-man

That picture taken above? I had a treat in my hand. He's looking at it; longing for it.

Don't worry. He got the treat.

But take him to the park for a walk and hope he'll be this alluring to attract the attention of girls with whom I can then use my endless charm to chat up? Yeah...no.

See, Arlo has this thing where he's large enough that women fear the shit out of him. This isn't helped by the fact that standing next to me makes him look about a foot taller than he is. It gives him a complex, and I already have one.

On top of that, when you're at the park most of the girls you'd want to "chat up" are jogging, or in my case, MILFs with strollers. And, like vacuum cleaners, lawn mowers, road signs, cars, bikers, mailmen, police officers, cats, animals on TV and buses, children and joggers are on Arlo's shit list. He wants to kill them. Seriously.

Kill them.

Or at least play with them very hard.

So, imagine my surprise when, walking him next to the jogging path at Liberty Park, a leggy blonde sassy lass bound past us as Arlo leaped at her, snarling. I somehow kept him from taking her down like a lion takes down an impala by raising my arms up and away as far as I could and spreading out like an Oompa Loompa playing Simon Says as she spryly hopped out of the way, screaming. Flustered and with a pulled groin muscle, I muttered a hesitant, "Nnngghh...sorry," holding my retarded pose as she recovered and ran off, yelling, "Watch your dog, asshole!"

I made my way back to the car quickly, head down with Arlo in tow. He, on the other hand had become excited by this event and was looking for his next victim. As a result, he refused to get into the car until I threw a treat in it and then picked his hind end up, pushing him into the back of the car. This resulted in him crop dusting me with an ever so passive-aggressive "Pffft" that was 2 inches from my face as I lifted him up.

Verdict: Dick.

Exhibit B - Horrible Passenger

Arlo likes car rides; especially with the windows down. This allows him to stick his head out of the windows, one at a time and check out the sites as we drive by them. Endearing, right? 

Watch the video. 

That's him trying to bite everything we pass. Arlo doesn't discriminate, either. Not shown are the sign posts, street lights and bikers he will try to get as we drive past them.

This is tame. If there are kids in a car we are passing or in a car that's stopped at a light next to us, he goes ape-shit. I just don't have the gall to film him while he's doing it. Once we passed a school bus full of kids. He barked and snarled as he tried to bite the bus repeatedly. Kids screamed. I heard them.

Verdict: Dick (but I like it when kids scream)

Exhibit C - Horrible Spooner 

Yes, I spoon with my dog. I'm divorced. Cut me some slack. 

Correction: Arlo is a great spooner...as long as you stay awake when you're spooning him. But fall asleep and he becomes the Jekyll and Hide of spooners. He's spooner-turned-date-rapist. He foregoes all etiquette and unspoken rules of spooning. 

I held my end of the spoon-bargain; woke up right where I started. See where is ass is in that photo? That's where my head was when I woke up. I took this photo as evidence and cowered in a cold shower afterward. 

At least he looks pleased. Tongue's out. Ears are up. Maybe he's dreaming of that blonde in the park. I guess that's some solace. 

Verdict: Dick A-hole

Exhibit D, E, F.... - Quick Dick-isms

1. While hiking, Arlo wanted to eat a dead rodent on the trail. I told him to leave it, and he did (good dog!), but to hell with any other dog that would want to eat it. He pissed on it and headed up the trail. 
2. I took him to a friend's house once to watch a movie with a group of people. He cleared the room with his gas to the point that the host excused herself and went to bed early. 
3. He laughs at funerals.

In Conclusion

So, my dog's a dick. But, it's endearing. What can I learn from this? Well, for one, I wish I was more like my dog. Like the honey badger, Arlo don't give a shit. Therefore, I aim to give a little less of a shit from now on.

Ghosts

The ghosts of stories past are known
As Lavender, Purple and Spring
We hear of them and meet eyes
And shudder
And believe

I see you then as I always have
And wish that you saw me
As more than a ghost
As more than I may be

Who are the ghosts of us
And who will we be
Will men tell tales of the tragedy
That we failed to come clean

I won't have been a comedian
And you wouldn't have laughed at me
But we'll both have been actors
On a stage only I could see

I love you now as I always have
And wish that you loved me
For what I may become
For what I may already be

Who are the ghosts of us
And who will we be
Will men tell tales of the tragedy
That we failed to come clean

Vowel Sounds

Greetings! It's been awhile and I have lots of things I want to write about. But, first, for my 20th blog post, a short story:

I'm going to try my hand at writing down stories I tell, so please give feedback as this doesn't come as naturally to me as telling the story.

Oftentimes, when I don't have enough information about an issue I care about, I tend to assume the worst. Personally, I don't like that I do this, but I do take some solace in the fact that I'm not the only human being who behaves this way...

Several years ago, I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things on a Saturday afternoon. Preferring a computer screen to a human face, I decided to stand in line for the "Self Checkout" even though the line had two people waiting in front of me, and all of the Self Checkout kiosks were taken.
This was when the whole concept of "Self Checkout" was still new, so we all waited in line patiently for a few minutes as the people at the kiosks bumbled their way through the screens, the scanner, the scale and the payment process. Finally, after an agonizing 5 minutes, the furthest-most right kiosk opened up.
There were two women ahead of me, and the woman at the head of the line was perusing the covers of periodicals when the kiosk was vacated. She didn't notice, and we all patiently waited for all of 10 seconds before the other woman in front of me declared, "Ma'am, you can go now." The lady at the head of the line briefly looked up at her, smiled and continued to read the magazine covers.
Puzzled, myself, the woman in front of me, and the 3 or so people behind me all waited, watching her, wondering who of us, this group of people who went into this line to avoid human interaction in the first place, was going to speak up. Again, it was the second in-line in front of me, "Excuse me, miss. The terminal is free. You can use it." This time, the lady at the head of the line didn't acknowledge this statement at all, having grabbed a magazine on the rack to start fingering through.
And we waited. Nobody wanted to be rude and I had already started to sweat, nervously. Incredulous, the woman in front of me raised her voice to a level that was heard throughout the front of the store, "Hello?! Are you listening to me?!" Peoples' heads turned. Conversations between checkers and customers stopped. Blips and bleeps from grocery scanners were silenced. The elevator music continued.
The woman at the head of the line looked up from her magazine and turned her attention to the crazed lady behind her who continued, "The lane is open! We're all waiting for--"
And at the moment, the woman at the head of the line cut her off, frustrated, "I ant eah u," while motioning to her ears.
She was deaf.

WWoWD? Day In-Retrospect

When you work as much as those in the gaming industry tend to, it's easy to overlook the value of the simple pleasures in life. Personally, I struggle with the basics: eating healthy, sleeping, and exercise. My relationships suffer and get pushed off my list of "necessary to-dos".

It's often my wife who reminds me that simple things like drinking plenty of water, getting enough sleep, eating throughout the day, and connecting with family and friends more regularly can increase my happiness. I am often jealous of the joy that a simple lunch, a phone call, a massage or a card brings her. I tend to be a bit more high maintenance in that area; requiring explosions, fart jokes or videos of chimps doing ungodly things to toads in order satiate my appetite for temporary happiness.

So, upon finishing up Cars 2: The Video Game, a couple of friends and I expressed the desire to "hang out" over our obligatory time off after the project. Not content with the usual "Come over to my house and we'll drink and play games", and seeking time to bond, we devised a plan:

What if we followed our significant others' example and spent a day doing what they might do with their closest friends?

Immediately, ideas were brainstormed. Not all ideas were pursued, and some ideas will never, ever be mentioned again, but with the finality that only high fives and chest bumping can bring, two things were for sure: Tim, Devon and I would call the day "What Would our Women Do?" Day and it would start with pedicures.


So, pedicures were had by all. Conversation was delightful and appropriately light. We kidded. We gossiped. We giggled. Our attendants at The Nail Room were quite pleasant, and noted our conversational skills. Tim was exceptionally complimentary to the employees with quotes such as, "This pedicure feels fabulous!" and "Oh, what a treat!"
I was embarrassed of my Quasimotoe(c) and Shire feet, and Devon was initially apprehensive about his skin socks turning off anyone who glimpsed them. I have to say, they creep me out, but he managed through the embarrassment quite well by being the first to proclaim that he would love to have his toenails painted.

I, for one, cringe whenever I see a man with digits decorated, but with Devon's courageous upping of the ante, Tim and I accepted the challenge with declarations of our own. Each would get his toes painted in a unique color.

Blog Trivia!
My challenge to you is, can you determine whose toes are which color in the photo below? The first person to answer correctly by emailing me wins a prize. Sorry, significant others may participate, but cannot win. :(

Cringe X3

After our pedicures, we were famished. So, next stop: A sensible lunch. But where? We bickered over the best possible place to go, but finally settled on The Beehive Tea Room as delectable finger sandwiches, salads and quiche seemed like a perfect solution to the goal of a sensible lunch.







The atmosphere was cozy and intimate, affording us the opportunity to bond. We immersed ourselves in discussions of matters both personal and public, from games to women, from finger sandwiches to visits to the urologist. Ahem...

Sensible indeed...

After giving our stomachs time to settle, and tiring from frivolous conversation, cookies were in order, followed by a bout of frenzied shopping. We made our way to RubySnap:




Note that we bought enough cookies for our significant others to partake in them.

Caroline and Maggie: If you didn't get any RubySnap cookies, you might want to have a talk with your men. Devon bought a LOT of them. The ride to the mall was long though...

We felt the Woman's Day cover was appropriate.

While the outlet mall was the desired destination for shopping, time was of the essence, so we settled on Fashion Place Mall. Have you seen this place lately? Uh...Mall Heaven.

This girl can shop -->

It's time for a drink.

And finally, to cap our day off, it was time for a drink. But, we didn't want the normal bloating feeling we get from beers. No way. Only cosmos would do at this point. So, to the Red Door...

BFFs LOL

Our day coming to a close, we reflected. We had laughed. We had confided. We had bickered, but never bitched.

Ultimately, we felt relaxed. We were at peace. Our friendships had reached a new level. We pondered whether our menstrual cycles would align.

And then, we toasted.


To our ladies. Thanks for showing us how to spend time well, and for inspiring us to do so. We owe you and we love you.

Being a diva is hard work.

I'm feeling crampy, so I think I'll take some Midol, drink some water and lay down for a bit.

Kelly's Big Trip to Pixar

I was fortunate enough to go to Pixar for the first time a couple of weeks ago for work. While there, I was able to briefly catch up with my friend Matt, but wasn't clever enough to snap a photo of him. Sorry Matt! But, I did get some other photos, below...
















If you see this, it means you're at Pixar.

I don't know why I'm drawn to things that make me look even smaller, for instance:

• Tall friends
• A big dog
• Long shorts
• High-Tops
  

• 

But I had to sit in this chair. Getting out of this was a doozy. Sometimes, little legs suck.

















You can actually ride these around the studio lot. Me? I had a driver. Okay, fine. I rode in the basket.






















Monsters.


















Cars.

















This? Oh that's nothing. Just a case full of Oscars and Golden Globes and the like. Nothing much to see here (obviously), so I went to check out the Pixar urinals.


You thought I'd have a photo of those urinals, didn't you? That's disgusting. Shame on you. Here's a photo of an Oscar as punishment.