ChopWatch '08 : Week 3

Week 3: Introducing...the Chin

I had this image uploaded as "medium" and the chin just about jumped out of the monitor and chin-butted me. It's what I imagine a headbutt would feel like using the chin. I hope never to feel one in actuality...hence the reduction of the image size to "small".

Anyway, so this is the chin. It's clean shaven now...Ahabe has retired for the remainder of the journey. The chops are nearly complete.
the Misses seems surprised in this one. I don't know what by. I've shoved a camera in his face two weeks in a row now...the third shouldn't have come as a surprise. You can see rthat the chops are taking shape. I don't know what shape...but a shape, nonetheless.
However...some splotchines. I think time is all he needs. More time. He disagrees. He insists that what isn't there now will never appear. That's the kind of pessamisim that loses wars. I don't lose wars. Mainly because I don't fight them. You can tell I've had wine, can't you. Well, I have.

I've entitled this picture: Resignation.

In other news...I saw Wanted tonight. For $3. It was about $2 too many. Still, it starred my Scottish lover, James Macvoy. And:
A lot of raw meat
A lot of bullets meeting bullets and crushing each other
A lot of Angelina Holie being anorexic and hoish...skinny, ridiculously healthy-haired bitch.
A lot of unnecessary innocent bystander casualties.
A lot of RIDICULOUS slow motion
Some guns
James Mcavoy without a shirt - yes
Jame Mcavoy without his Scottish accent - noooooo
And an overabundance of Nine Inch Nails

Mmmmm...

And yes before you ask, the Missus DOES look like this under his oversized novelty t-shirts.

Professionalism...Always Professionalism

Sometimes...you can tell when HR has gone on vacation.

From: Kara
Sent: Monday, August 25, 2008 1:40 PM
To: All Dept. Coworkers
Subject: Appt. Tuesday @ 3:45 PM.

FYI

I have an appt. tomorrow afternoon and will be unavailable from 3:45 to around 5:00 or 5:30. I'll get back online when I get home.

---

From: Coworker
Sent: Monday, August 25, 2008 1:58PM
To: Kara
RE: Appt. Tuesday @ 3:45 PM.

If this is a job interview, you're dead.

I love my office.

Jackasses.

Some of the old school Condi fans may recall my tangent regarding Crocs back in '07 and how offended I was at the stylistic liberties the shoe manufacturers were taking with holey rubber. Well now I'm beyond offended. I'm not sure there's a word for that. Someone make one up for me.

The makers of the world's ugliest shoes aren't satisfied with being the makers of the world's ugliest shoes. They now have decided to also become the makers of the world's most counter productive accessories!

Example 1: The breathable cell phone case, also known as... the Crocs™-o-Dial (PUKE)

A "fun way to protect your phone", yeah from everything except that which destroys it...namely water. I don't know what it's like where you guys live, but here...anything housed in something with HOLES will get WET and MILDEWY. I enjoy the word "mildewy". Apparently it's not a word, though...because there's currently a red-squiggly line underneath it. Which I will ignore.


Yeah, so that pisses me off...until I see THIS.

Example 2: the beach-hating beach tote

For "big fun days at the beach" this tote is a must-have...if you just love getting sand in your shit. And what the eff is a big fun day? That statement makes almost as much sense as a beach tote filled with holes.

These two Crocs products combined with the others previously "reviewed" make me hate everything. Perhaps that's a bit melodramatic, but you'll have to forgive me because you won't be able to help it. I believe that these items should be utilized in the same vein as a white flag on the battlefield...except instead of meaning "we surrender", they would be an unmistakable declaration of war. Yes. I'm off to notify military-types of my fantastic idea. I can see the enthusiastic reception now. I'll be a hero and live live the rest of my days as a celebrity...like those scientists who invented the Atomic bomb.

ChopWatch '08 : Week 2

Week 2 : Splotchy

While we're seeing some good length and some fun variations in color (his hair is brown, but the beard seems to lean toward red, blond and brown), there is a concern that facial hair and head hear may not meet to create the perfect united chop via the traditional sideburn route. But then, it's only week two. We don't rush things here in the land of science. Such a pretty little land.

What I've been enjoying most is the Missus' attempt to cultivate the beard into something he can bear to be seen in public with. The mustache went almost immediately, a move which I fully supported. The overgrowth below the chin and upon the cheek went too, creating what I am calling a "Captain Ahab" effect. He better watch out or his current nickname could morph with very little effort on my part.All in all I'm pleased with his progress. And that he hasn't come at me with a wooden spoon for doing this to him. I think it's his lack of free will that's keeping me alive and bruise-free to blog another day.

In other news, I have none. It was over 100 degrees in Portland over the weekend. I believe I've described once before what happens to Oregonians in heat. We melt into little puddles of whine. Suddenly strolling through the mall sounds like a good way to spend free time. Slurpees become aperitifs. And anyone wearing jeans is placed under citizen's arrest and committed to an institution for the mentally insane. But not the criminally insane. We're not mean people.

I Heart Chex Mix

Normally I hate nature programs with a loathing so powerful even cookies can't assuage it. But right now I'm watching this thing on the Amazon river on an HDTV and I'm fucking riveted. Did you know there's a fish that can breathe air when it needs to? And a frog that never leaves the water? And a fish that looks like a leaf?A fish that looks like a leaf! Only in the Amazon would such backwards logic work so well! Well shit...it's over.

So I think I owe it to no one in particular to comment on the whole John Edwards travesty. As you may or may not know, I offered myself up as a big ol' fan of the guy back whenever I did that post about being a big ol' fan of the guy. It would appear that the rest of America was not as blinded by his presidential hair as I was. Oh well. When I read the article about his infidelity I aimed the brunt of my frustration at the Missus over IM.

me: Why can't you people just keep it in your pants?!

His answer was as much as one can expect from a man.

him: I'm sorry.

Harumph. The bastardo is lucky he didn't win the nomination. If he had succeeded and this bullshittake ended up losing the White House for us I would've personally Lorena Bobbited him. Actually, I wouldn't because I don't have the stomach for that kind of thing. Of course, I don't know that I would've needed to considering McCains previous and rumored affairs have done nothing to tarnish that external moral fiber he sports, but still...I really wanted to believe this was a man who was above such things. Qu'elle rat.

So that's what I have to say about that. I still think he has some wonderful ideals...and what goes on in his marriage is really none of my business, but i strongly believe a truly presidential man would never have gotten caught.

I'm going now. Taye Diggs in HD is apparantly just as riveting as the Amazon.

ChopWatch '08 : Week 1

3 days later I am still battered and bruised from the Slip 'n' slide. Perhaps we should've heeded the "not for adult use" warning imprinted onto the plastic. What fools we are.

Still...so much fun. Video exists, but it's not in my possession. If it falls into my lap, I'll review to see how stupid I really look and maybe post. Maybe.

But that is not what today's post is about. Today's post, my fine four-fendered friends, is to introduce a science experiment. Today, we're going to talk about ChopWatch '08(TM).

This is the Missus.

If there ever existed a more innocent looking baby face on a 27 year-old man, I've never met it. The face or the man.

I can't remember exactly how or why we thought it needed to happen, but my friends and I have decided that the Missus must and will grow himself some manly chops. Not so much the Ulysses S. Grant mutton chops of yore...just a little somethin' in an exaggerated sideburn.

Poor boy. I have no idea how I got him to agree to such an endeavor. He's certainly not happy about it. It's only week one and already he complains of itchiness and low self esteem. Pish posh, I say. They'll be fabulous. So what if there are chunks missing.


What you're seeing here is about two days of growth. I realize there are men in this world who have to shave twice a day to prevent five o'clock shadow. The Missus is not one of those men. ChopWatch '08(TM) will be a photo journal with weekly installments until he either succeeds in utilizing facial hair as a badass accessory OR we give up because it looks terrible and splotchy and I take pity on him. I do not believe the latter will occur. I see things through, damnit, and so shall he.

Ok, so I did promise him something in exchange for exposing himself to such ridicule. In the event of a successful growth...he will have earned the right to a better blog nickname. And by "better" I mean non-emasculating. Though he'll continue to make me dinner and do the dishes and drive me around and whatnot...so I'm not sure what he'd be trying to prove. As Batman says..."it's what you do that defines you". Or maybe it was the chick who said that. Whatever.

ChopWatch '08(TM). Who needs the Olympics with the promise of such excitement? Such suspense. Such shenaniganery.

Stay tuned.

Finger Cramp!

I can’t decide whether or not it’s wrong to use blogging as a time-wasting avoidance tactic. I mean…isn’t that what Facebook is for? Mindless, addictive, totally useless Facebook? That’s totally not what I’m doing here. Being mindless, addicted or totally useless, I mean. Blogging requires creativity (except for poll day). It’s an art. I’m not writing this shit for you, I’m crafting it. There’s a difference. So I should take no issue with stopping what I’m technically “supposed” to be doing to listen to the call of the muse or whatever. I mean, it’s kind of my duty, to not let inspiration pass me by. My duty as a “writer”. Yes, I may call myself a “writer”. I don’t even have to tack “aspiring” to the front of that term, wanna know why? Because when I’m done type – type - typing away here, I’m going to hit a button called publish. And BOOM. I’m a published fucking writer. I don’t need to aspire to shit. You try to bring up the fact that I’m not getting paid for this and I’ll cut you.

Kara’s crabby today. That’s what you’re turning to say to whoever is in the room right now. And you’ll be correct, I am crabby. That’s also my duty as a card-carrying member of the fairer sex, to be crabby for no apparent reason. I don’t try to explain it. I just warn you that it’s coming so you can dress in the appropriate riot gear.

This election has me bored. I know. I want to punch me in the face too. This nonsense with McCain ads comparing Obama to Paris Hilton…it’s just dumb. I can’t even find a better adjective for how dumb it is, so I’ll stick with a poetic device instead. It’s as dumb as how long I’ve been staring at this mole on my stomach and wondering if it looks pre-cancerous without ever having seen an actual picture of a pre-cancerous mole. I’ll probably go google one in the not-too-distant future.

But first, it’s stupid hot in here and the Missus is wearing socks and slippers because he doesn’t like the cold concrete floor. Is this weird to anyone else? Maybe I need to make it the next poll. I am sometimes obsessed with trying to understand people. I often come up short. [Due to my height, I now feel like I should be offended by that term and will cease using it.] I often end up disappointed. Not in the people, but in myself for failing to understand them. I’d make a terrible head shrinker. In both occupational senses of the word.

This post has come full circle. If that full circle was missing a chunk out of the left side, I mean. But this is what you get when I try to post more than once a week in the summer. You get time-wasting avoidance blurbs. And with that…the chunk has been filled in. I bid you good day.

You People Are Nuts

I'm not GIVING you a cookie. I just wondered if you WANTED one at that particular moment. Honestly. I'm not in the habit of being a giver, I thought you all knew this.

Anyway, I have one word for you...

Flugtag.

What you are seeing above is the Winnebago "from" Spaceballs racing off the end of a makeshift peer to then dump head-first into the NOT CLEAN Willamette River. This picture was taken from a boat, also in the Willamette River. I am on that boat. I am not on the Winnebago. I am one of the 80 THOUSAND people watching the Winnebago. People in Portland get excited about free events that center around poor decision-making.

I alternate between being tickled and being disturbed by things like the Flugtag. I appreciate the silliness, the imagination, the balls (that river is NASTY) involved in the undertaking. It parallels the Olympics...uniting thousands of perfect strangers taking on the role of spectator in the hopes that someone in a funny costume first succeeds and then crashes and burns. These events really bring out the best in people.

But then, there is a dark side. On the other side of the platform there lived a construction crane and two GIANT dumpsters. Slowly, one after another, each of the crafts representing thousands of hours and dollars and drops of sewage-filled river water got tossed without so much as a 'fare thee well' into the brown metal bins. So much waste. So. Much. Waste.

But then I got over myself and realized that this is America. It's patriotic to waste in the name of fun. And I'm nothing if not a patriot. On my way home, I'm going to buy an entire bag of styrofoam cups and throw them out after leaving the store. I may not even wait to get off the premises. Bless America. Bless Flugtag. And bless you.