Mexican Jumping Beans.

Have you ever seen these things? Quite possibly the best thing to come out of Mexico other than tacos.

After a trip to Mexico my dad brought me back some Mexican jumping beans. He thought they were hilarious and knew that I would get a kick out of them. He was right. They were little brown beans that you would put in your hand and watch them move about as if by magic. Strangely as a kid I never really questioned anyone as to why they moved the way they did, I was happier just to watch them do their thing. I even found a nice little case to put them in that was one of those ring cases you'd keep an engagement ring in before popping the big question.

Every day after school I'd run home and up to my room and pop open the top of the case to see the Mexican jumping beans bouncing around and it would bring me joy. Then one day the question I never asked was answered. I popped open the lid of the case to realize my jumping beans were no longer jumping. Instead each bean had a little hole in the side and laying on the bottom of the ring case was a few dried up little wormy looking things. There was little bugs in those beans, and the poor buggers were making the beans bounce by trying to get out. I don't think they would have been trying so hard if they knew what was going to happen to them once they did.

It's definitely a tough life being a mexican jumping bean. You spend your whole life trying to get out of the bean and before you realize you've accomplished what you've been trying to do for days on end, you're dead.

Dirty Pockets.

Below is a video of my band Real Problems playing in a bar the Friday before last. We're playing the first song I ever wrote solely by myself. It's called Dirty Pockets. The lyrics are simply:

Dirty Pockets - Dirty Pockets
Picking up cigarette butts right off the ground
Dirty Pockets - Dirty Pockets
Keep them in your jeans where they'll be safe and sound.

And then cue some sort of phlegmy hacking sound.

WARNING: If you watch this video you will never get the 1 minute and 21 seconds of your life back.



I'm kind of proud of this song, because it hasn't yet become boring to play, so part of me thinks it must be a real banger. And for a first effort that ain't half bad. Also it is short. I have always enjoyed a short song. And there is a fast part. I have always enjoyed a fast song. Also there is a groovy part. I have always enjoyed...well you get the point!

But did I mention headbanging? That's the sole reason I haven't gotten a haircut yet this year.

Cowboys ain't what they used to be.

When I was younger a cowboy was a sort of heroic figure that shot guns, finished bar fights and saved small children from bad dirty people. But as I got older cowboys seemed to become less and less cool.

There is nothing manly about riding a horse. I'd assume it was more of a ball crushing experience than anything else. There is nothing heroic about a rodeo either. They rope and drag cows to the ground just to tie up their feet. Seems like the equivalent to beating up the fat kid at school. And don't even get me started on the wardrobe and footwear.

I think a big problem with how people perceive cowboys these days started with the Village People and ended with the movie Brokeback Mountain. Neither of these things helped the cowboys heroic image, and we all know their music stylings weren't gonna save them either.

I think if I was a cowboy I'd be right pissed off about that movie Brokeback Mountain. Well either that or I'd be right pissed off about the flattened testicles.

Ghosts.

My house is apparently haunted. A few years back the people that lived below us said they were getting bad vibes from an "evil" spirit, so they called up some weird people that claimed to be ghost watchers. These people showed up, set up infrared cameras in separate spots of the house and stayed overnight while quietly watching for any spirit activity. They didn't find anything major, but did claim to see some spiritual activity in the corner bedroom's closet but it quickly rose up to the top floor, which would be my bedroom. Even the Metro newspaper reported on a story of these very incidents. It must have been a very slow news day, or close to Halloween or something. All I know is that I laughed my ass off as I read about my own supposed haunted house in the newspaper at work during my lunch break.

Now don't get the wrong idea, I'm not a non-believer, I just prefer to not make a big deal about such things. I'll let the ghosts go about their business while I go about mine and both our lives will prove to be better because of this. I'm not going to stir anything up, make a stink and eventually end up seeing some creepy little girl standing behind me in the reflection of a window at night. No thanks, that's not for me, but there have been a few instances that come out of nowhere that remind you there may be ghosts around. On a hot day I've felt a strange chill blow up my back that even had my t-shirt moving. There's also the strange mornings where I try to wake up, but it feels as if someone is pushing down on my chest leaving me completely frozen and unable to rise. However this latest occurrence is by far the strangest.

My radio alarm clock has been set to the Fox radio station since I've lived in Vancouver. Every morning that it wakes me up it plays the Fox morning show and hopefully a jam by Rage Against The Machine or Sublime. So it's safe to say I was a little perplexed when I woke up yesterday to the Rock 101 morning show. And then even crazier this morning when I woke up to the Peak radio station. Just a weird crazy thing that can't be explained other than the ghosts having a good old laugh at me in the morning while I lie there with a stunned look on my face. More stunned than usual I mean. I've always been scared to set my alarm at night because of what it's going to do, but now I'm scared to set it because I don't know what it's going to do! I have no other explanation to this other than ghosts playing pranks. Tis the season I suppose.

I still listen to Nirvana.

I hate it when people call Nirvana overrated. It's not Nirvana's fault that Kurt Cobain died and people insist on putting dead musicians on a pedestal.

Dead or not dead, no one can deny that they left behind a legacy. 'Nevermind' is one of the biggest albums of all time and the main reason why I refuse to listen to anyone who calls Nirvana overrated. It's not 'Nevermind' that makes me think this, but 'In Utero'. Look at it this way; the band released an album that exploded and turned 3 struggling musicians into bon-a-fide celebrities. This album put them on the map and people were losing their shit over it, so when it came time to write, record and release a follow up there was some major expectations to live up to. This is where a regular person would crack under the pressure, write a couple of amazing songs and back it up with a bunch of filler. But not Kurt Cobain and the boys. They came back guns a blazing and released an album that was (in my opinion) better than the album that shook the world's core in the first place. This type of thing doesn't happen in the music industry. Ever.  

And this is why I believe that, even though people put a dead Kurt Cobain on a pedestal and worship him like he is some sort of god, Nirvana is not overrated. Anyone who can follow up one of the biggest albums of all time with something better deserves every bit of credibility they are given. 

Sometimes I play the game 'I wonder what kind of music Mr. Cobain would be making if he weren't dead?' I think he had some major issues with the whole celebrity part of being in a popular band, so even if he were still alive I don't think Nirvana would still be a band. I bet they would have released another couple of amazing albums and broken up leaving Kurt Cobain to fade away into obscurity. Either that or he would be making music so weird and unlistenable in an attempt to drive people away. Whichever route he may have taken, I know one thing for sure, he died too soon. His legacy will live on forever with his music, but I would sure give a lot to hear a follow-up to 'In Utero'. 

To double down or not to double down...

That is the question.

I did that Hamlet speech once. Didn't understand a word of what I was saying, but my acting teacher seemed to sure love my delivery. Sometimes you can just feel those pauses. Anyway, I have wavered way off track already. I was coming here planning on blogging about the Double Down.

If you have yet to hear about this Double Down it is a new sandwich style grease bomb from the well known fast food chain KFC. Colonel Sanders himself probably never even saw this one coming. They take two deep fried chicken breasts and sandwich bacon, cheese and some kind of sauce between them. No bun, just a giant ball of grease. Me thinks this must be delicious.

They have only just introduced it to Canada, but those fat asses from the States have been sucking 'em back like they were going out of style since the day they started being served. My friend has already had one from both countries and he says the one from the states is way bigger and they use cheddar cheese whereas here in Canada it's pepper jack. Also both are reported as being 'greasy as fuck'.

However a guy with my condition should not even dream of eating such a thing. It'd probably take a year off of my life! On the positive it would only be one of the crappy years when you're all old and shitty, so I say bring on the Double Down!

On a more truthful note I don't think I will be trying this grease explosion any time soon. If I ever was going to eat some crazy shit like that I'd probably be in a mall food court (happens so rarely) and if I was actually going to burger it up (also happens so rarely) I'd be hitting Arby's. Someone should tell Mr. Arby that he needs to create a double down styled sandwich with roast beef over that cheese sauce and bacon. Deep fried roast beef! And slather some of that crazy red ranch sauce in the middle too. Oh no, my mouth has began to water.    

Old man.

A long time ago I used to live next door to the oldest man in the world. His skin was translucent, and he couldn't possibly have weighed more than ninety pounds. He could barely talk at all, but when he did attempt to speak to me I could never understand a word of the painful sounding whispers that left his dried and cracked lips. Scarily enough he still drove a beast of a car. Every time I saw him pulling out of his driveway in that honking green boat I assumed it would be the last time I would ever see him.

Supermarket fantasy.

At the tail end of every supermarket visit you have to find a line to go and stand in. Obviously you want to be standing there for the least amount of time possible, so surveying the scene is always a good idea.

First you check out who will be ringing up your purchases and exchanging money. The more you go to the same store the more you start recognizing the people that have worked there for a while. The ones that excel at their job and the others that don't. Next you have to take a look at who will be standing in front of you in the line. Maybe a crass judgement, but old women being some of the worst people to be caught behind. They are the ones most likely to have a complaint of some sort, be using some kind of out of date coupon, misplace money or any old thing from their purse, need help out to their car, and definitely shoot a nasty look my direction.

Sometimes I find myself walking up and down the grocery store before settling on a line-up to stand in. And once I've finally settled I'm still watching the progress of the other lines. Sometimes you catch yourself making a snap judgement, switching lineups and now the race is on. You're watching the other line as much as you're paying attention to your own inevitably leading to you slipping up when packing groceries into your backpack or attempting to legibly spit out your phone number to the cute girl attendant. Yes, sadly that is also something you take into account when picking out a cashier. The cute ones usually prove to be the fastest, probably just trying to get this beastly looking boy out of her line up, but can't blame a girl for being good at her job.

You usually avoid the hot chick line up when buying the family pack of hot dogs.

An oldie but a goodie.

I used to do all my blogging on Myspace, but I started this blog because there has been tumble weeds blowing through Mypsace for quite some time now. It seems to be a site solely used for checking out band's music, and that's why I've stuck with it for so long. So now that I've started a blog I'm going to transplant of few of the blogs from my Myspace over here. And some of them might date back as far as 2005!

Sunday, May 21, 2006 

     Cinematic gold
    
     I don't watch movies anymore. They just don't interest me...it's all been done before. These days the only thing in a movie that catches my eye is if it stars a monkey or a group of downsyndromites. Is that P.C? downsyndromites? Well when I get some money that's the movie I'm going to make. Monkies vs. downies. There is only one thing scarier than a raging downy, and that's a monkey with a handful of shit, cocked, and ready to throw.


        So it's the year 2030 and downies and apes roam the streets freely. They are opposing gangs and not stoked on one another. They do battle, shit is thrown and a downy dies. Of course his friend yells, "damn you dirty apes!" And they fight back. There would also be a couple of talking monkies so we knew what the hell was going on with their gang. Then a sasquatch would be thrown into the mix, and everyone would realize that it was possible to be both a downy and a monkey, and their differences would be settled. Then they join forces and form an ultimate gang to take on man! But first they attend a Jones Bones show and that would be the big finale...me crowd surfing on a sea of monkies and downies alike. Then the sasquatch would fart.

    So there you have it a blog from back in 2006. It's strange the things I thought were funny back then. It's probably even stranger that I still think they're funny now.

Dirty Blood.

I was in the clinic the other day for some blood work. This consists of me getting a needle, having some blood extracted from my body and then sending the results to my specialist. After that I'm sure they sell it to a vampire and he drinks it straight from the vial. How vile.

So after the process was finished I sat there pressing a cotton swab to my arm. I was sitting right next to the radio and the song 'Tainted Blood' came on. I laughed and told the nurse that this was too fitting of a song to be playing right now, and she asked why. I told her it was because of my crohn's disease that I too probably have tainted blood just like the guy in the song. She assured me that the song was titled 'Tainted Love' not 'Tainted Blood'. They used to have a sense of humour in that clinic. Damn vampires.