Sunday, April 25, 2010

Nose Broke

Shortly after the commencement of the zero hour, our hero entered the domicile of another to be regaled with the trials and tribulations of four young boys from a small mountain town in Colorado. Beyond the threshold of the dwelling, two of his peers partook of one of the most honored past times of the tradition of youth - petty vandalism. Armed with but one plastic frisbee they tried, in vain, to destroy from 25 paces away a vestige of Boisen's emergency preparedness system, not more than a mere well lit directive to the nearest egress. But as apparent to the sparsely populated crowd of onlookers, their plight was a hapless as that of a dog attempting to relieve the itching from worms by drag his anus across the floor.

The futility of the exercise was most apparent to the third of their party, Dan, who had been standing beneath the beacon of departure the whole time to retrieve the frisbee and pitch it back to his less capable fellows. In an act of something short of wisdom, Dan decided to show that he would be apt at severing the exit sign from its fixture. He hurled the frisbee back to his associates with full vigor. His friends in astonishment backed away from flying disc to allow it to pass. At this very moment our hero emerged from the chamber with authority. In flagrant disregard of the dangers the hall possessed he boldly stuck his nose across the threshold and into hall, and that was all that was needed. For at that very moment the frisbee careened past the door and struck the hero on the bridge of his nose with an impact harder than a Catholic priest at a boyscout meeting. The frisbee drifted off into the distance leaving but one spot of blood at the point of contact but opposite nostril had sprayed blood across the hero's face that it looked much like the backseat of my dad's car the night of junior prom.

Our hero had been knocked out of commission; he was left with the awareness of someone who had been sniffing glue all day instead of working on her art project. Quickly his dearest companion, the Great Len, jumped into action and remarked "You're in shock" as he stroked his scraggly teenage beard. Len then began directing orders to his fellows when their RA decided she wanted no part as she may be punished for recklessly allowing the situation to arise. Dan put his brawn to better use and and biked his way many many blocks to the stadium to retrieve his car wearing only boxer shorts and a leather jacket. While the hero and his companion awaited a ride to the infirmary, a man who resembled Abu the monkey from Aladdin sacrificed his ice for intoxicating beverages to be placed on the hero's nose. Unfortunately no one had a plastic bag, or a really a better idea than paper towel so the ice was wrapped in paper towel until it disintegrated as the ice melted. The hero sat in shock with little idea of how to cope with the gooey cold mess on his hands but soon enough Dan arrived to deliver the hero and Len to the nearest emergency treatment facility.

The hero walked in alone, bloody and cold, as his associates parked the Pontiac. He approached the desk and said "I think I broke my nose." The attendant gave him a form to fill out and asked him how much pain he felt on a scale from 1 to 10. The hero boldly, bravely, and still quite dazed pondered the great sufferings of the world - starvation, having one's eyes pecked out by crows, and the dread candiru swimming up one's urethra. Compared such travesties his pain was not intolerable to the human condition and so he remarked as he staggered there "I don't know, a 2?" For this was a mistake he would pay for dearly as if he had stated a higher level of pain they would have at least given him a tylenol or something.

But untreated he wandered back to the waiting room to rejoin his fellows. He was then directed to an examination room where he waited much longer. After some time Len and Dan came to the examination room and waited even longer with the anticipation known only to fans awaiting the the start of the new Arena Football season. Then a magical elf, or possibly just a very short nurse, entered the room and took him on a mystical journey to Radiology, a magical land of gamma radiation. Much like the rooms in Boisen, Radiology was bereft of ice packs. So the elf/nurse grabbed an empty pillowcase, filled it with ice, and gave it to the hero in an effort to stop the swelling. He then waited with his companions again until many hours had passed. They waited so long Len's beard went from scraggly to full and lustrous as if it had been wash with fancy volumizing conditioner.

With the news that his nose was in fact broke, our hero left with his compatriots with a standardized list of warning signs, a pillowcase full of ice, and a feeling of emptiness like when the giant bag of M&M's won't fill the sadness. With just hours before their morning classes, Len and Dan concluded their selfless act by turning in for the evening just minutes before they had to wake for classes. They had no excuse, unlike our hero who was able to miss his classes the next morning. But with a pounding headache, blurry vision, and a little nausea he walked triumphantly to his afternoon class. He handed in his poor written paper, sat in his normal seat, and was passed out well before the start of the lecture.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Home School Prom

As Russell Hitchcock’s crisp vocals rang out, Elijah emitted a crestfallen sigh. The nights may be better for Air Supply, but Elijah was lonely on what was supposed a special night for any teenager - prom. Sure his mom had tried her best to gussy up the garage with crepe paper and a large banner saying “Home School Prom,” but her horrendous choice in music and catering, tater tots and Juicy Juice, only reinforced his feelings of loneliness. Elijah sighed again and cast his eyes downward.

But Mrs. Harper smiled proudly at the job she had done, as she was chaperoning her son’s prom. In her opinion no one would have recognized the garage had it not been for the 2001 Ford Contour taking up the majority of the dance floor. Then she realized Elijah had been standing against the wall all evening. “Don’t you want to dance, honey?” she asked.

“With who, mom?” he retorted. Didn’t she realize he was the only one there? Of course she did; she thwarted all of his efforts to invite someone, anyone else. Or was she expecting him to dance alone.

“Well” Mrs. Harper hesitated, “you could always ask me.”

“Oh you cannot be serious,” Elijah thought rolling his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you let me invite a girl?” he asked.

“I don’t want you dancing with girls,” she replied.

“Fine I’ll dance with boys then – is that what you want? For me to be grinding my junk on some guys inner thigh.” he snapped.

“I spent a lot of time working on this young man. And I raised you better than to think those sort of thoughts. And if you continue act this way, there will be serious consequences Elijah Clair Harper” she said eyes burning with fire.

Elijah groaned quietly with a broken spirit. He reminded himself that it would be over soon, and swallowed his pride. He began to dance alone, if only to appease his mother. She cooled and smiled. Maybe tonight she would allow him stay up to 9:30 since it was prom night.

“Mom, are you guys almost done with my Air Supply CD?” Leslie asked as she popped her head in the garage. Her mom had told her not to interrupt her brother’s prom, but Leslie could not resist.

“Get out of here Leslie. You’re ruining prom,” Elijah yelled.

“Loser,” Leslie said completely satisfied with her ability to irritate her brother as she returned to the kitchen.

Alone once again with his mom, Elijah Harper let out another sigh. Then a loud noise came from kitchen. Elijah looked over to his mother, and she to him. Suddenly Leslie burst through the door screaming at the top of her lungs. Flesh eating zombies had stormed the Harper home. Unable escape due to layers of crepe paper covering the garage door opener and the 2001 Ford Contour blocking the other door, zombies devoured the entire Harper family in their garage. Home School Prom started reeking of emotional depression but ended in bloodshed at the hands of the undead.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Presidential Hootenanny

So I was driving Pico Blvd today and saw some guy riding a mechanical bull outside an old warehouse. I looked a little closer and to my surprise that guy was former President Richard Nixon. So I pull in, take a picture, and yell "Hey Tricky Dick, what's up?"

Apparently there is some annual shindig in LA every year with all the former President's going wild. Nixon said I could go in and that's when things got weird. First thing I saw was America's original sweetheart First Lady Dolly Madison rubbing her booty up on the junk of the Father of the Constitution James Madison.

And then I look to my left and Eisenhower was doing shots with Woodrow Wilson. While on my right I saw George Washington and Thomas Jefferson doing body shots off some woman they met on the bus - they had pregamed heavily and chose to be responsible because they are two responsible dudes being president's and all.

Then I went into the back room and Harry S Truman (The S stands for 'S') was holding a beer bong for Franklin Roosevelt. FDR did three beers without a break - it was sweet.


But then John F. Kennedy decided to one up the New Dealers. So he grabbed Martin Van Buren, Theodore Roosevelt, and Ulysses S Grant (The S stands for Ulysses) for some assistance. They held him up and he did a keg stand. I don't know how much was in it when he started but it was empty when he was done.

Later on I was talking to Andrew Jackson about how much Kentucky sucks. Well Old Hickory was thoroughly inebriated and a little animated which caused our conversation to lead to him getting into a fight with Abraham Lincoln. Honest Abe got in a few good licks, but as this picture shows - Jackson humiliated him.


All in all it was a crazy night. I saw some cool things but there was one image I could not get out of my head. Damn Reagan.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Caveat Venditor Machina

The sun had just crept over the horizon a few hours earlier. As unabashed as a European man in a Speedo - I boldly plunged into the fire that is the law library in late morning of a Saturday. Why might a man of such dignity and self-respect put himself through such self-flagellation that could cause even the most vigilant, wrathful, and hell-bent of deities to recall a plague on mankind? Simply put - I felt like getting some work done before the football game came on and unfortunately being on the West Coast means the game comes on in the early afternoon. Damn you East Coast - damn you to a hell more vile than the stench in a port-a-potty. For you shall pay dearly for the cruelty you put me through - a cruelty that exceeds the torture meted out by Stalin or that of other children on the playground. East Coast, you may win the battle in the field of hip-hop music, but you shall not win the war. I will show you. Today will be moderately productive like a Tuesday or perhaps a Wednesday.

The law library was about as popular as a Justin Guarini concert and as silent as deadly flatulence. In the unbroken silence of the book depository, I was able to quickly and diligently progress through a section of text by Ayres and Speidel like a Monday crossword puzzle. But upon the completion of assigned reading I realized I had been confronted by twin specters more menacing than sandpaper prophylactics - eye strain and carpal tunnel syndrome. Not wanting to succumb to the demons of prolonged computer use, I had to take a break. But given the barren condition of the library my choices were as limited as the reach of a guy with little arm disease. My cell phone was at home, no one was on skype, and I didn't feel like walking very far after having walked all the way to the library from my apartment. I had but one choice (well if there is only one it isn't really a choice; and to describe as the only one would be an exaggeration - the other choices were present but not viable; but I digress) - I had to go to the vending machines and get a soda.

Thus, I packed up my things and ventured down to the vending machines. I opened up my wallet and was surprised to find a one dollar bill as crisp as a leaf in autumn and as flat as a fashion model. It appeared as if luck was on my side but I would soon learn that irony was just building up my hopes to crush them like reality does to the hopes of children from low-income families. The vending machine was out of order. "Damn you vending machine for treating me like Tantalus with no provocation," I cried. "Fulfill your purpose! That is why you are here, to serve man!" But there was no reasoning with it; for it was inanimate. I then mercilessly slammed into the vending machine and I let out a loud wailing cry. Thankfully the vicinity was nearly vacant so the crowd of onlookers was minuscule at best.

I picked myself up from the pool of tears, despondent and broken, I proceeded to LuValle. I grabbed a soda but knew that misfortune would be on the horizon. And when the cashier rang me up he gave me that most tortuous of messages - this soda would cost a full ten cents more than the soda from the vending machine. I fell to my knees and let out another loud wailing cry - for this my struggle - mein Kampf.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

The Darkness

Suddenly I find myself in this aphotic room,
With no guiding light it may very well be my tomb.
Peering intently into the nothingness, the absence of light,
Terror strikes me; I panic; I fill with fright.

Confused and paralyzed whilst facing a caliginous Medusa
Sadness fills my heart like the mother from Thing v. La Chusa.
In my stillness, I ponder my unpropitious lot
I must go on, Calamity will greet me not!

I grope the walls and floors of undifferentiated sable
Effortlessly navigating the darkness (except for bumping my shin on the coffee table).
I reach the cabinet imprisoning that for which I strive
A fresh light bulb of watts seventy-five.