Mortichi.

Firstly, I want to say that blogging is very strenuous and has caused me to spill lentil soup ALL over my desk and jeans...and people actually have the balls to ask why I haven't been blogging lately. This stuff isn't childsplay. People could get hurt. I'm looking out for each and every one of my 6 blog readers.

Okay, so, back to today's topic. MORTICHI. I ask all of you to now focus on the flutter of images that enter your mind when you hear a name like Mortichi.

I'll give you some examples of the things I see inside my brain when I hear that glorious name.

Creepy Amish dude.

Amazing hawk from Royal Tenenbaums.

For some reason I see wizards.
(If you are bored google "wizard pics" for a good laugh.)

Now finally, the reason I am writing this. Imagine me riding an awesome bike named Mortichi... getting the visual??? Do you see me popping mad wheelies and reaching mind boggling speeds? What I'm attempting to do folks is embody all of the images I've just presented to you into one amazing feat of bikery. (I realize this is not a word.) What I want is for the people of Indianapolis to see me whizz by on Mortichi and immediately a rush of images - creepy Amish dudes, hawks, wizards... all visit their brain and make them excited about bikes. I'm going to start a biking revolution.

Oh, and p.s. The lentil soup that I spilled has now dried on my chair and it looks like I crapped my chair.
MORTICHI shall reign forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Poo Friend's Identity... REVEALED!

Hold onto your hats folks... I think I've made one of the most groundbreaking discoveries of my my budding journalism career. As I reported in an earlier story regarding the "work place poo" I came in contact with some truly inspiring defecators. They were hillbillies. They were ladies. They were Poo Friends.

Well, for one moment today God opened the grey skies above and shined a bright light into my Friday. A face to face run in with the Poo Friends! I shit you not! (No pun intended.)

As I exit the lavatory I hear the ding of the elevator. I pause to take a sip of water at the drinking fountain and immediately my ears are filled with the sweet sweet sound of hillbilly lady banter! YES! I was a deer in headlights. What do I do? DO I go back in the bathroom to listen? Do I run for my camera? I froze, then turned to look. They were practically skipping down the hall arm in arm... so happy to have found each other in the 2nd floor bathroom. Partners in poo. The Cousin Larry and Balki Bartogomus of dookie.

The next observation left me truly paralyzed... wait a second... one hillbilly lady is African American?? I've never encountered a hillbilly of color! This cannot be for real. The other lady looked totally hillbilly- permed hair, rail thin from smoking cartons of Winstons, tapered leg jeans... but this other lady, this other lady did not fit the hillbilly mold. What we have here is relationship that defies all odds.

Wait a minute... this explains the Church's Fried Chicken.

I heart stereotypes.

Dreams in black and white.

So I’ve been having this reoccurring dream for years now. Had it again last night. It’s so strange… but I always love remembering it (mainly because my Grandma is a main character). It is in black and white. Like some old WWII propaganda film. There is even that film reel clicking sound in the background throughout the entire dream. But, I don’t view the dream as s though I am viewing a movie in my mind… I view it from my perspective. As though I am living life in black and white with a gentle humming click sound following me.

So, the dream begins with me looking off the 2nd story balcony of my parent’s house after I hear the sound of airplane propellers. I look out to see a slew of Japanese soldiers marching up my driveway, flags a flying,– heaps of old school single propeller planes flying just feet above the surrounding horse pastures and soybean fields. This is quite a scene.

My Grandma is eating peanut butter straight out of the jar. “Holy shit Grandma, the Japs are here!” (sorry to be derogatory, I am a huge fan of all people and things Asian—this is a period piece). Grandma: “How in the hell did they find me?” ( I like to pretend she was at one time some kind of saucy secret agent.)

I spring into action. I begin sending out Morse code on the telegraph (YES, we have a telegraph, we are in black and white, Duh) … click click click click “SOS you assholes.. the Japs have come for my Grandma!”

Grandma hops onto my back. And, trust me, any lady who sits around eating peanut butter out of the jar dwarfs me in size. I turn into a minotaur or something. We hear frantic Japanese speech from downstairs. “Shit, Granny I left the garage door open.” Grandma: “I’ll Granny you!” ( I have no idea what that means but she always said it.)

I have to scold her for hanging onto the peanut butter “For God’s sake, just drop the effing jar of peanut butter and hold on, I’ll get you some more at the Village Pantry!” She throws the jar of peanut butter onto the floor and it turns magically into a fog machine. The PERFECT disguise for our getaway. I leap off the back balcony, Granny in tow, and POOF we disappear.

The End.

p.s. As much as the expression “Japs” may have offended you, it really offended spell check.
p.p.s. If you can provide any assistance in interpreting my dream please offer it up in heaping helpings.

Pathetic scene.

So, for those of you who aren't aware, I am an awesome driver and caretaker of automobiles. Did you know that you can actually use up all your AAA visits? Well, FYI, you can. I've achieved the unachievable folks. You are allotted 4 a year... and by March 3, 2008 I had used my maximum for the YEAR. This does not present a positive outlook for 08.



I haven't been feeling very "bloggy" lately. I tried eating cookies (usually a quick fix for any problem). No success. I tried doing jumping jacks. NAda. Read some inspirational quotes online. (This actually negated any positive effect the cookies may have lent me and left me quite uninspired due to level of poor judgement displayed on this website -- what does "Happiness is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it, but only you can feel the warmth" have to do with inspiration? I'm upset with myself for even repeating that uselessness...) I went to the bathroom hoping to run into the hillbilly ladies. No dice. I miss those ladies. I looked to the Hoff.



Still nothing. It seems I've used up all my Hoff inspiration tokens. Speaking of tokens... I'd like to go play ski-ball if anyone is interested? Air hockey? Virtual reality skateboarding? Dance Dance Revolution?