Monday, November 03, 2003

the santa marias              When I was a kid I knew this kid named Marc Santa Maria.  He was really more my sister’s friend than my friend.  Marc Santa Maria and my sister were both in a violin class together.             Sometimes the Santa Marias would invite our family over for dinner.  I remember they made really good egg rolls.  The Santa Marias were Phillipino, so they made Phillipino style egg rolls which had meat in them.  I liked those egg rolls so much I would go back for second, third, fourth, and fifth helpings.  I would stuff myself with those meaty, greasy, Phlillipino egg  rolls.             Then after dinner the Santa Marias would ask Marc and my sister to play their violins.  We all sat and listened as they played their violins.             The Santa Marias felt like all of the kids should put on some sort of a performance.  The Santa Marias  would ask me if I would get up and sing.             “No,” I would say.          11:40:53 PM    comment []

violin lessons                         My sister used to take private violin lessons after school for a few years.  I remember when I was in about the fifth grade my mom would pick my sister and me up from school and then take all of us to her violin lesson.  We drove up to this old cottage in the northeast part of town and an old man would open the door and my sister would go in and do her violin lesson.  Meanwhile, my mom and I would just sit out in our blue station and wait for her to be done.  Since I had nothing to do I would just look at things out the window to pass the time.             I guess I could have studied and done homework, but I don’t think I did.  I pretty much just sat there and wasted half an hour.             In retrospect, it seems like this was a terrible waste of time for me.  But it was really a waste of time for all of us.  My sister never really got that good at playing the violin and I don’t really think she enjoyed it.  When she grew up she quit and became an insurance lady.              11:20:56 PM    comment []

holidawdle  excessive tardiness in removing holiday related decorations.  E.g:  Because of his tendency  to holidawdle, Ned often had to scoop his rotten pumpkin off his porch with a flat head shovel, while the smell of Thanksgiving turkey was wafting out of his neighbor's windows. 9:33:12 PM    comment []

my 2 cents on the 87 billion      I usually don't get political because as a generation x,  libra I don't really care about anything or have a particular point of view (that I wouldn't betray for a small cash payment).       But I got to thinkin' about Iraq today while I was sitting in my car drinking an Arizona Iced Tea and chomping on peanut MnMs.      In the old days, when you went to war, it was a given that if you won  the war, you were gonna take all the women and gold and any interesting items that you could fit on your battle cart, e.g; golden goblets, platinum plated cross bows, exquitsite silks and furs, etc.  Anyone left over, you either enslaved or executed, after torturing them, of course.      Now this may have been reprehensible from a moral point of view, but at least it makes sense.  That is, you worked really hard to kick some people's collective ass, and now you want all their stuff that's worth taking.     But with Iraq, after we spent billions and billions of dollars and hundreds of lives winning the war, all we did was pull down one statue and vandalize a few silly Saddam murals.  (And we could have just replaced the face on the statue, with say, the face of Bill Gates, or Joe Millionaire.)     And instead of taking all of their women and gold and dvd players, we're going to give THEM eighty-seven billion dollars.       Let's play that back again in case you missed it.  We went to war because we thought they might kill us.  We won the war.  Now we're giving them eighty-seven billion dollars.  (That's a million dollars times a thousand, times eighty seven.) (And it's not a low interest loan, or anything, it's a gift).  Now imagine the late Sam Kinneson screaming the following: EIGHTY-SEVEN BILLION DOLLARS!!!  ARE WE FUCKING INSANE!!!  THEY'RE OUR ENEMY!!!!  OUR FUCKING ENEMY!!!  WE WENT TO WAR AGAINST THEM BECAUSE WE THOUGHT THEY WOULD BLOW US UP WITH NUCLEAR BOMBS OR POSION US WITH ANTHRAX!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING MONEY 87 BILLION DOLLARS IS?!!!!  YOU COULD BUY EVERY HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR EAST OF THE MISSISSIPPI A GODDAMN ESCALADE WITH  87 BILLION DOLLARS!!!   YOU COULD MAKE 87 THOUSAND AMERICANS MILLIONAIRES WITH 87 BILLION DOLLARS!!!!  YOU COULD HAVE BRIBED SADDAM HUSSEIN TO ATTACK HIMSELF FOR 87 BILLION DOLLARS!!!!  OH MY GOD!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! GET ME SOME COKE!!! GET ME SOME COKE!!!     5:34:34 PM    comment []

new word   Lingawit a brief, fleeting thought of what it would be like to lick some inanimate object, like a shag carpet.               i.e. Jane’s lingawit was so vivid, that she actually started to pull imaginary fibers from her tongue.   8:14:37 AM    comment []

another ridiculous story               Ed stopped for a hot dog at the corner of 7th and E Street.              “I’ll take a Chicago style with chili,” he said, inhaling the wonderful hot dog steam.             “You bet,” said the hot dog man.  The hot dog man dunked his tongs into the greasy, steaming hot dog water.  When the tongs emerged, they clutched not a hot dog, but something that was a cross between Bill O’Reilly and a platypus.             “That looks like a good one,” Ed said, as the O’Reilly platypus dropped into his bun.             “I wouldn’t know,” said the hot dog man, “I left my brain in the ash tray.”             “Wonderful things, ashtrays,” said the O’Reilypus.             Then everyone shut-up and became paper clips.  Then, the paper clips got their groove on and bombed Toronto.  Toronto was really a hot dog.  An AC 130 gunship swooped down and blasted Toronto with ketchup.  Osama Bin Laden and the blues clues guy were Siamese twins attached at the head.  They went through thirty-nine hours of surgery, not to detach their heads, but to add another head.  They added Brad Pitt’s head.  Their head spun around like a pin wheel.  The pin wheel flew into the sky and made everyone happy.   12:34:04 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2003 Mark Michaels. Last update: 12/1/2003; 7:04:51 PM.