I Really Use Ellipses Far Too Often...

Not that it's a huge problem, or anything...because that's how I think; with these nasty triple-periods that look like a mix of "cancer" and "incest." I don't know, I've tried to wean myself off of them, but I just end up being "Mr. Semi-Colon Man," and semi-colons look even worse...sort of a cross of cabbage and teenage angst.

But I've been thinking a lot today. Twice, actually...right around 5:40 PM. And I thought to myself, I thought, "Hey, Tyler," I thought, "Just what are you trying to accomplish here. What is this 'blog' all about? Do you mean to waste everyone's time here? Why do you do this...does this amuse you? Whoa! That tree looks pretty climb-able...you think you could shimmy up there? Let's do it!" Then I climbed the tree...somewhere around 5:42 PM. But I couldn't get down, so Erika had to call the fire department. They showed up, but their ladder was broken...so they just threw rocks at me until I fell onto the sidewalk. They were cool, though. One of the guys let me wear his helmet for a while...

But I didn't really know what to do when I started here...it's all a shapeless, random, "absolutely hilarious" (I'm not quoting anyone there, I've just always wanted to be described as "absolutely hilarious" by someone) mess. Some people want to tell you about how their day was going...and that's all well and good, but my days are never very interesting. Something like, "I woke up crying...then I took a shower...then I got out and started crying again...then I got back to bed and did a bunch of acid. That pretty much knocked me out for the rest of the day." No one wants to hear about my life...frankly, I don't even want to hear about it. I'm really considering just whaling on that "backspace" key until it all vanishes. But I won't...because I'm still kinda' tweaking on that acid. I'm either typing on a computer right now, or I'm under my bed fiddling with an empty bottle of Erika's "sweet smellin'" hand lotion. It's hard to separate reality from "acid reality" at this point. Forgive me.

Then there are some blogs that discuss a trip the person recently took. I tried that once...but all of my vacations just end up with me crying at some point...and I haven't been able to type out a good cry since I started this thing. Here's the closest I've come: "Bwuahaaahaa haaaaa...." I know...not very effective.

Some blogs like to make political statements. I shy away from that, because I've always seen "Talking about politics" as being the same as "Digging a hole in the back yard." I mean, it's great...it's fun...it'll get you dirty and sweaty...but in the end, you'll never be able to dig a hole deep enough to bury your guilt...or your seasonal tulip bulb...or Aaron Carter.

Finally, there are the blogs that try to be "funny." I don't prescribe to that type of blogging, because what I do is not rooted in "comedy," it's actually a desperate cry for both A) attention, and B) money.

This will be my 38th blog posting...but I still don't have a unifying theme. I mean, what if the day comes when I have to name this blog. Something like the classics "Bellowing at the Void," or "Avoiding the Noid," or "Null and Void Noid," or "Boyd Avoids Noids, while Lloyd Asks Floyd About Steroids, Hemorrhoids, and Rape."

But to name my blog? I don't think I could do it at this point. Not that I'm pretentious or anything...and I need the perfect name. But right now, it's just this mess of boring, repetitive, random japes and jibes about this, that, 'n' the other.

Oh, actually, I kinda' like that. "Japes and Jibes." Sweet. JapesAndJibes.com isn't taken yet. It's even got its own sweet acronym: JAJ. Excellent. Well, until next time, here's a fantastically long ellipses: ............................................................................................

Look! There's a book called "Japes" with boobies on it! Boobies!!!!

Annoying Promotional Materials to Follow

Hello all,

I know what you're thinking: "Oh great...another shameless promotional plug. That's just great. I ask you all for chain letters and surveys, but instead you send me promotional material. Just great."

Well, I'm sorry, but you know...Iraqi children are dying every day...so let's have a little perspective here.

Anyway, this will be fast and painless (that's what she said. OHH! Wait...that doesn't really work, does it...?). Erika and I are doing Uncle Vanya for a new theater company called the "Seattle Novyi Theatre." Here's the official press release, because I'm tired of trying to think of interesting things to say:

Seattle Novyi Theatre

Presents

Uncle Vanya

written by Anton Chekhov, translation by Larissa Akhmylovskaya, Leonid Anisimov and Carol Levin, directed by Leonid Anisimov and assistant directed by Corinne Bogan

WHEN: Friday, May 5, 2006 and Saturday May 6, 2006 @ 8pm

WHERE:
Act In Class
12301 Sandpoint Way N.E.
Seattle, WA 98125
(206) 365-0822

Seattle, Washington Seattle Novyi Theatre Presents Anton Chekhovs Uncle Vanya at Act In Class. This production is the child of an 8 week workshop with Honored Artist of Russia Leonid Anisimov. He is the artistic director of Tokyo Novyi Theatre, and the former artistic director of the Chamber Drama Theatre of Vladivostok, Russia. Mr. Anisimovs work is based on the techniques employed by K. Stanislavski during his last years at the Moscow Art Theatre in the 1930s. Over the past 8 weeks the ensemble has worked with Mr. Anisimov and Ms. Bogan, searching for their own personal truth in Chekhovs wonderful play about the summation of life, inspiration for the future, love and dreams, and how large ideas become meaningless.

Tickets can be purchased at the door, or through BrownPaperTickets.com

Seating is limited, so best to order in advance. And, if you want my honest opinion, the show is good. Damn good. So good, that it will change the way you put your pants on in the morning. You'll go "two legs at a time" you'll be so moved. And if you're not moved, well, you'll probably keep going in the single-leg fashion, but you'll dream of the "two leg" idea...and it'll haunt you...

Best Conversation...Ever...

So, I got to take off from work early tonight, because we found out today that our entire office is going to be relocated to South Carolina...minus the "people currently occupying those positions." I don't know whether to call it "downsizing," "reallocation," "realignment," or "outsourcing" but either way, it leaves me minus one day job as of October 31st.

But that's not what this blog is about. I'll save that for another day...when the odd sensation of losing my job (by October) finally subsides. On the ride home from work, I was privileged enough to overhear a conversation by two men about the good ol' days. This is an actual conversation that I recorded with a digital voice recorder that I happened to have in my bag. Guy #1 is in his late 40s or early 50s, and he's wearing work clothes and a baseball cap with some random "union" on it. Guy #2 is about the same age, in casual office attire, with thick rimmed glasses. He speaks with a heavy lisp...almost sounds like Sling Blade.

Anyhow, here is their verbatim conversation. They'd already covered how much cheaper gas was back in the 60s and the 70s. Did you know gas used to cost a quarter?! WOW!!! Anyhow, here's the tail-end of their conversation:

#1: That's true...that's all true.

#2: Just like what I'm doing now...when I said now...when you speak to other people and your speech and yourself you're telling yourself what you need to know, well I think I know what I'm talking about, what you're talkin' about.

#1: Well, there's nothing wrong with a little communication. Back at ya'.

#2: It used to be much simpler...to...to...divorce the idea of...of freedom in America...from corporate America...now its not so simple--

#1: Thats because of divorce?

(long pause, the bus rattles noisily)

#2: Corporate America has co-opted s-so...in other words, George Bush is...uh...capitalistic

#1: It's capitalistic...it's a capitalistic society.

#2: It is...well that's...y'know

#1: But capitalism has...uh...its own downfall. That's how it goes. If this country grows. You know, its still...I...I think...uh, I think I like living in this country because--

#2: No, I do too...(man #2 stands to exit the bus at his stop) But I wasn't going in...I...(shakes #1's hand) Have a good day.

#1: You too.

Something about that seemed so pure to me. So innocent. So confusing

I'll Admit It...

I'm a little nervous here...I actually come here with an "idea" of what I'm going to blog. I'm nervous, because when I'm "trying" to be interesting, I end up "tying" my shoes...which became "untied" when I "removed" them.

Nope, already off track. This is not going well. I need a cute little smiley face to cheer me. How...about....this one: Golly! Look at the little laughing guy....laughin' and laughin' and laughin'...or is that a seizure? Oh, my God...he's going into shock! We've got to move, now! You, dial 911! You! Is there a defirbrilatror on the property? Defribritator! Drefribgerator! Get it! He's coding! CLEAR! NO PULSE!!! NO PULSE!! WHERE IS THAT GODDAMN AMBULANCE?! WE'RE LOSING HIM!!! NOOOO!!!!!

Crap, I just can't help myself, can I? Damn hell. Well, here's the deep observation I was going to make, before that Goddamn seizure smiley-face got me off track again.

See, I'm a man who listens to music. As far as I can tell, I'm the only person who likes music in the entire world, which is fine with me. Some day, the rest of the world will know the true beauty of "songs." Until then, it's my cross to bear.

But, being the only person actually listening to music, I notice things. I thing this is from that new Pearl Jam song...something about Worldwide Suicides? Well, that ol' local radio stationshow "The End" decided to play that track for every-other-song they spin. Unfortunately, I don't like the song, and I didn't really know why...until now. Call it a "revelation," call it "liver cancer," call it "Colin" and put it in a pretty dress...either way, it's my idea. Now it's your idea, because you're reading this blog, and I relinquish it unto you.

I think, at a certain point, singers stop writing songs that are "personal," and start to try to teach other people how to live their lives. Pearl Jam is a good example...here are some lyrics from "Worldwide Suicide":

It's a shame to awaken, world aflame
What does it mean when the war has taken over?
It's the same every day in a hell man-made
What can be saved, and who will be left to hold her?

Okay. Now, compare that to some early PJ (I'm the only one who calls them PJ...if you call them that, you're a "copy cat," and a "dirty rat")

Just like the day...oh, like the day I heard
Daddy didnt give affection, no...
And the boy was something that mommy wouldnt wear
King Jeremy the wicked...oh, ruled his world

Now, I've never been a real huge PJ fan, but their earlier lyrics actually are personal, heartfelt, and sincere...whereas Worldwide Suicide seems a bit whiny, and didactic (I don't know what that word means...but Thesaurus.com does! And that's all that matters).

Here's another unfortunate example of sincerity and honesty gone horribly wrong. Ms. Kilcher...or, as I like to call her, "Snagglepuss:"

Dreams last for so long
Even after you're gone
I know you love me
And soon you will see
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you.

Forgive me, but I'm a sucker for schmaltz, and girls with big boobies. Now compare that to her latest "smash hit":

You look at me
but you're not quite sure
Am I it or could you get more
You learn cool from magazines
You learn love from Charlie Sheen

Actually, all I learn from Charlie Sheen is how to hire prostitutes, and also how to play Cribbage (double-run, bitches...double-run...). Most importantly, I don't need Jewel/Snaggle to tell me what I learn from Charlie Sheen, unless it's to tell me how we was able to spawn half a man. Quite a feat.

One more example before I leave you...and this one is sure to generate the hate mail...or "hate comments," or (even more painfully) the blithe indifference. I don't know what the word "blithe" means, but I did go to high school with a girl named Blythe. I also went to school with a girl named Jessica Simpson -- I actually had a crush on her in the 7th grade because she sat next to me in a class we had...and for no other reason than that. She used to wear a bola, and vests...but she's doing much better now.

I digress...here is that last example I promised...and I'm sorry that I know this...but I do...so shoot me, a'aight...it's not like it's tough to learn these lyrics or anything...I mean, it's not like I'm a fan...I just learned them because I thought they were stupid...really...I mean...c'mon...:

Baby I dont understand
Just why we cant be lovers
Things are getting out of hand
Trying too much, but baby we cant win
Let it go
If you want me girl, let me know
I am down, on my knees

Hee hee....did that guy from N*SYNC just say "I am down on my knees." I don't know why that's funny...I just know that...hee hee...er...hee...sorry. Not funny. Anyhow, here's some of their "later magic..." the stuff that got released shortly before they decided to part company to "pursue other projects."

Can we say the same for you?
Tired of feelin all
Around me animosity
Just worry about yours
'Cause I'ma get mine
Now people can't you see

I guess hesa did get his in the end. Now, I'm sure I'm over some "word limit," because I literally spent 2 hours writing this blog entry -- 108 of those minutes were spent replaying some of my old N*SYNC CDs (I burned them illegally! SHHH!!!), but the rest was "pure blogging heaven." Speaking of which, here's the real "Snagglepuss," in all his glory. Ahh...I love HTML script...because it's dorky...

Now what's that thing he used to say? Ah...yes. "Exit stage left, even..."< other ?pursue to company part decided they before shortly released got that stuff the magic...? ?later their of some here?s Anyhow, funny. Not hee...er...hee...sorry. that...hee know just funny...I that?s why don?t I knees.? my on down am>

I Wasn't Going to Tell Anyone This...

On Wednesday, on my way to work, I had a banana, a Coke, and a sleeve of saltine crackers for breakfast. I thought, "If I only eat a banana, it'll be too sugary...and I need to drink some kind of fluid (fluid = Coke in my world). So, why not balance it out with an entire sleeve of crackers...to absorb the acidity of the Coke and the banana."

So, I finished at about 8:30 AM. The stomach ache started at about 9:10 AM, and proceeded until about 7:30 PM that night. For all of you aspiring "sleeve of crackers for breakfasters" out there, I say...just don't do it. Or, if you do, add "shot of Pepto" to that list, and enjoy.

On to happier news. I have a new invention. We were at a friend's house recently, and he pulled out some vacuum-sealed, pre-cooked salmon that was tender, smoked, and (if I didn't hate all seafood, would have been) totally delicious.

Now, because I hate seafood, this got me to thinking; why only salmon? So, my new invention (feel free to steal this idea...I will be first in line to buy 'er) is vacuum-sealed, smoked, flavored pot roast sticks. Because who doesn't love pot roast? We've got plenty of dried, chewy, totally delicious meats to choose from...why not a tender, pre-cooked, barbecue flavored stick of beef to jam into your mouth (or, if you so desire, onto a cracker of your choosing).

I'm telling you, someone will make money off of this idea. Not I, however. I'm pretty busy with this puzzle here...so...if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to it...

Cries From the Night...Screen Door Battle

It's a funny thing...no...I take that back. It's not funny at all. But here goes anyway...

Sometimes I've got nothing really new to say at all. My schedule right now is, "Work, Booze, Rehearsal, Tears, Fears, Sleep, Wake Up, Work, Booze, Rehearsal, Tears, Fears, Sleep, Wake Up..." and on and on until I'm nothing but an empty shell of a clam.

But I did have an idea today. Some time, during the course of my life, I would like to have the ability to say:

"Guards! Seize him!"

Because, that's all guards are good for anyway. If you'll notice, guards will never protect you...or notice when your base has been infiltrated...or aim their weapons effectively. But, this is the one command that guards will always get right. Always.

That's it for now. Join us for our next installment, where we will plot the death of American Idol Top-Ten Finalist Matthew Rogers. And maybe I'll be able to holla' something worth reading at y'all....

I...have...created...a...MONSTER!!!

Boy, you know when you get one of those really good ideas? Y'know...the kind that grab you around the trident (if you're carrying a trident) and shake you until your hands turn into butter?

Well, Memories was (and still is) a good idea...but I fear that my dear, dear, friends who are currently without memories are either thinking, "Boy, does he even know my damn name?" Or "That's it, I'm calling the cops on this guy. He's stolen his last Mazda from me...."

But for all y'all out there who give a damn, let me set the record straight. You'll get your stinkin' memories...they will give you some damn joy...you will get that warm feeling in your stomach that could either be excitement or rage or ulcers...and you will titter...and...it...will...be...GLORIOUS! But daddy gots to work, babies...and until the lovely network administrators in my building allow me to access MySpace at work (Dating? Really? That's the reason you block this site? Well, I've got news for you, Mr. Administrator...the only date I've been on is with a lovely lady named "Blog," who treated me the way I deserve to be treated -- like Randy "The Macho Man" Savage), I gots to use what time the great Lord gives me. That's Lord Ninnyfanny III, Duke of Essexshire. And he's a very busy man.

So, the long and the short of it is, you'll get your memories all. They're all there in my increasingly-more-visible pate. But the only MySpace visits that I have had time for are uploading the amazing Mr. T/Me photoshop that big Smoov made for me (that's my nickname for you Matthias...I hope you cherish it), and to see if any more of my enemies from Inglemoor pop up. I must track them...they can smell fear...I mean fur...I mean flair. They can smell flair, and I have several spoonfulls of that at my disposal at all times.

See what happens when I say, "Hey Tyler, you should post a blog apologizing to all the people you haven't got to yet in your memory project." God...something is seriously wrong with this young man right here...I need to go to bed...