NOTE: If you are easily offended by offensive things then please go somewhere else. I suggest or, you wuss!


Thursday, August 31, 2006

Marisa and the Galindo Family Go to the Fair ...

... although I will be the first to admit that it seemed to me less that Marisa wanted to go to the fair for her birthday and more she wanted to treat the broke as all hell, hardly any money for food, destitute Galindo family to the fair.

Not that I minded, mind you. Hell no. Beggars definitely cannot be choosers and I am definitely a beggar.

We had a lot of fun in the few hours that we were there. Better still, there was hardly anybody there to be annoyed by. Still, though, a small part of me felt a slight pang of guilt from having no money for parking or my ticket or for tickets for Emerald to ride stuff or money for food or drinks.

But another, much bigger part of me was like HELL YEAH, WE AT THE FAIR, BITCHES!!!!!

Isabela displayed a strange mutant power to look directly into the soul of a goat and steal its soul. It's an amazing trick ...

That was my fourth year of going to the state fair with Natasha, my wonderful wife. It was also my fourth year of going with Emerald, my darling girl. It was little eleven month old Isabela's first year going to the fair and she loved it, especially loving her first taste of cotton candy. And it was year three for me and Marisa.

The next two pictures are very much related ...

A lot of fun was had by all. However, I still get the suspicion that I am a bad person for allowing the birthday girl to treat me and my family to the fair. But if it wasn't for her we wouldn't have been able to afford the fair at all.

That just goes to show how wonderful Marisa is and how she really seems to somehow care about me and my strange, broke, offensive and partially mexican family. So thank you very much, Marisa. We had an awesome time.

Feeling pretty good. I was really down for a while there but I'm trying to think less about money and bills and growing up and just learn to live in the moment. Last night helped with that a lot.

Now I have a much needed day off and I'm going to spend it doing jack sheee-it.

See ya.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Moanings of a Man Almost Thirty ...

God I feel fucking old.

This was Emerald the way she looked when I first met her.

I first met her summer 2003. There was a new chick at work - funny, hot, angry, open minded, rebellious, big tittied, everything I was looking for. But I never thought she'd get with me. Next thing you know we're spending every night after work sitting in her car for hours and hours listening to cds and talking and ... well, doing other things.

We fell in love like two bricks falling off a building. There was no stopping us. I knew she had a kid, though, and that frightened the shit out of me. I didn't know if I wanted to be a dad if this relationship took off. But when I met Emerald, little baby Emerald, I feel instantly in love. Her and her blonde little locks of hair and her pacifier and her cute little arms. She was my little baby.

And look at her now ...

A week from tomorrow she's going to have her first day of school. And that is eating away at my insides. I don't want her to go to school. I don't want her to grow up. I don't want her to get old.

I don't want to get old.

... and this is the first picture of little baby Isabela. Seeing her now walking and laughing and yelling DADADADADAH! every chance she gets, it's hard sometimes to remember the serious health problems she had once she was born and how for a whole week we were on the edge of our seats hoping she's get better. Those were bad times. A week of pure fear and rivers of tears. We didn't know. We just didn't know if the baby was going to be alright. God.

Seeing her in her breathing helmet, her oxygen bubble, she was our little space baby. That's what we'd call her to make a rare joke, add a little lightheartedness to that inner demon that worried that she might die. But she didn't, our little space baby. God. That all seems like so long ago.

And look at her now ...

It's almost Isabela's first birthday. She's going to be a year old. One year old. She's not a baby anymore. She's growing up. But I don't want that. I don't want her to grow up. I don't want her to get old.

I don't want to grow old.

I'm almost thirty.
Fuck me, I'm almost thirty.

I never thought I would live this long. I figured I'd be dead or killed or the world would have come to an end by now, SOMETHING so that I wouldn't be an old fuckin' thirty year old.

I had a conversation with my wife a few weeks ago. I told her that I thought I was having a midlife crisis. She said, honey, you're way too young to be having a midlife crisis. I said, not if I die when I'm sixty.

That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling. I'm broke and my health is shit and I feel dizzy and weak a lot and I have constant nonstop stomach pains and I'm hardly eating anything and my kids are getting older and I'm getting older and all this just builds up into this little ball that sinks down into my stomach like I just swallowed a brick and it hangs there. So I get to work and I drink lots of coffee and I work ten times harder and faster than anyone else there, faster and harder than I know that I should work because when I'm at work all I have is me and the books. It's my time to be alone in my cavernous kids section and not have to think about how dirty our house is or how old I'm getting or how the government is screwing me over, taking all of my family's money because of student loans that they say that I owe that my parents took out in MY name.

I'm having a rough time of things.

I don't want Emerald to go to school. I don't want to hear this house filled with silence while she's off learning and laughing and hurting and growing up without me by her side. I don't want Isabela to get older and grow up and talk and break my heart and leave me. I don't want to be broke. And I don't want to be a guy in my thirties.

That's about all of it.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Steve's Psychic Powers Once Again Manifest Themselves ...

This is me not going to the Format concert.
We can't afford to go.
Got about four bucks in our bank account, not even enough to buy food let alone go to the concert I've been waiting for all summer.

This is me broke as fuck.

I took that picture about an hour ago. That's how I feel right now.

So here I am watching Attack of the Clones in my living room. I haven't seen this since it first came out on DVD. Wow. Seeing this again really brings me back. I saw this at midnight, waited in line in the scolding heat for like twelve hours. Got on the news for it. Read Star Wars comics and listened to music and talked with like minded geeks. Then at night it was me, Jason, The Big Him, The Little Her, my brother. The whole old school Maple Room crew. It was an awesome time. And shortly after that our whole crew blew up, never to be seen again.

And watching this movie reminds me that just like Independence Day this is one of those films that I loved at the time but hate to death now. I marked out in the theater but ... god this movie sucks now!

I really wanted to go tonight. This sucks. I hate being broke. I hate having a shit pay job that doesn't provide for my family. I'd get drunk if I had money.

Sorry that I missed your party, Ramissa. I'm not in a partying mood. plus we have no $$$ for gas.

God I hate myself sometimes.

R.I.P. Razzle Dingley ...

Razzle Dingley was the drummer for, get this, an eighties Finnish hair metal band called Hanoi Rocks. They formed in Helsinki in the seventies with Gyp Casino on drums but he was later fired and replaced with Razzle Dingley. Many people call Hanoi Rocks a precursor to Guns and Roses, although this is debatable. He was in a drunk driving accident (him doing all the drinking AND the driving) and died at age 24, three years too early to be remembered as a genius which is why there are no Razzle Dingley shirts at Hot Topic.

This is all just information I lifted off of Wikipedia. I Don't know any songs of Hanoi Rocks, nor have I ever heard of them apart from in passing conversations about hair metal. In all reality I don't give a crap about the band or their music.

I just find it fascinating that there was a musician that went by the name of Razzle Dingley.


I mean, could that name have ever been cool? Even in the eighties that name soundslike something that not even a Snork or a Smurf would have. Razzle Dingley? It looks like some character from The Young Ones, not a bad ass metal drummer.

I mean, damn! Even for a drummer that's pretty pathetic.

To learn more about Razzle Dingley, Click here ...

Here's an Ali G clip. It's pretty funny but it picks up when he goes to the abortion rally. The ending where he does a beat box is hillarious ...

So here's a crack whore update ...

Crack whore mom got out of jail quicker than we were expecting. We expected them to hold her for the weekend so that on monday Natasha's mom could go down to the courthouse and file for full custody. But she got out of the pokey yesterday morning and walked to the Burkitt house where she demanded her baby, cussing and shaking and the full crack whore mode. But, skipping all the drama and cussing, crack whore got her baby back. And that sucks because that was one super cute cracker baby.

I of course missed all of the drama and yelling because I always miss the exciting things, but I wish I could have been there. I'm a big fan of chaos. That's why 7-14 was such a big day for me. Not often you get to see someone you know get led away in handcuffs.

Now watch as I go old school internet on your ass ...

So tonight my wife and I are allegedly going to The Boardwalk to go and see my favorite band The Format live in concert. We are apparently going tonight, just my wife and me, out to see our favorite band live. Allegedly. Now, I have concerns and disbeliefs and trepidations about this alleged night out that I will share with you now ...

For starters you've probably noticed that I keep using the word allegedly. The reason for that is WE ARE FUCKING BROKE! I mean, if I can't buy a $0.60 soda at work, how are we going to go to a concert tonight? That's for starters.

Secondly, I just have this feeling that this is going to end up being one of those things that we say we're going to go to and then just not go. Like the fair. The state fair. We probably won't go to the fair this year and that really stings. If we can't go to the fair then how are we going to go to The Format concert?

Thirdly, the last concert I ever went to was Los Lonely Boys at the State Fair last year ... and state fair concerts aren't really concerts per se. So besides the Los Lowzlee Boys the last live concert I've been to ... (sigh) ... was Edwoodstock, my own live concert event in 2004 and that doesn't really count since it was a movie and music festival AND I was the one running the damn thing. So that doesn't count either.

It's the curse of the daddy. I have a wife and two kids so I don't see movies anymore and I don't go out drinking anymore and I don't go see concerts, either. Most of that I don't miss, although I would have liked to have seen the new Pirates movie. Concerts are fun but they're not too much a part of me anymore. I'm older and more mature. Speaking of, I mean, I love The Format but what if I get there and I'm surrounded by all these peppy white teenage kids, huh? What if The Whistler is there?

I hate to admit this but I'm a bit nervous.

Here's the bands playing the concert, a little bit of CPR - Concert Psyching Rock for you ...

Rainer Maria: I'll Keep It With Mine

Rainer Maria: Catastrophe

Rainer Maria: Burn

Rainer Maria: Breakfast of Champions (best track)

Anathallo: Hoodwink

Street to Nowhere: Waste My Life For You

Street to Nowhere: They're Not Like Us

Format: Pick Me Up

The Format: Tune Out

The Format: Time Bomb

The Format: Dead End

The Format: Give It Up

The Format: 1000 Umbrllas

And, becase I can't get enough of that ending ...

And that's that. Wish me luck in this concert thing tonight, IF we go.

Oh, and death to shooshers!

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Borat Learns to Sing Country Music ...

Does it shock anyone that this happened in Tucson, Arizona? 'Cause it don't shock me.

In this episode from season 2 of Da Ali G Show, Borat wants to learn about Country Western music. He takes a square dancing class, goes to an award winning country musician that I've never heard of, and then decides to go to a country western bar in Tucson to sing #1 Kazakhstan song ...

Download "In My Country There Is Problem" by Borat!

Friday, August 25, 2006

We Might Be Buyin' Us A Cracker Baby ...

... last year I mentioned the crack whore that I knew and the drama that ensued when she decided to randomly stop by our house preggers.

Well, here's a crack whore update ... she's had the baby, it's cute as hell, but yesterday morning she got picked up by police and she was all up on the crack and the cocaine. So her and her babydaddy of the month went to jail and the police gave emergency custody of the baby to ...
(drumroll please)

... Natasha's mommy!

We have a new baby! Kinda!

Natasha and I want to buy it, have a brand new cracked out cracker baby crawling around. That would be awesome.

Selections from My Own Personal Diary ...

I have a diary.

Now this goes beyond this little blog right here. What I'm saying is that I have a diary, a literal diary, a black leather diary that I religiously carry around with me almost everywhere. I suppose that, having a penis, I should call it a journal but what who I kidding, huh? It's a diary and it goes with me everywhere.

What differentiates between this blog and my diary, you ask? Well, only I read my diary. And my wife. And Marisa sneaks a peak once in a blue moon but other than that no one ever sees this puppy. So its a lot more depressing, a lot more angry, a lot more racist, and whenever I'm having a rough time (which recently has been all the time) it always makes me feel better to open that sucker up and start writing. And I'm always writing, too. I have been living in Sacramento for well over four years and in that time I have written well over four books. I am currently 1/3rd through book five.

Now, I don't want to post anything from my diary on to here. That would be breaking the invisible fourth wall between diary and blog, but I thought that it would be extremely intriguing to post the last sentances of the entries of my diary from May 28th, 2006 up until yesterday. I think this is a very interesting experiment. These small sentances tell you everything and nothing all at once. Some of them are head scratchingly confusing and some of them are verrrrrry intriguing.

Here you go ...

-In other words I am royally fucked.

-I am not the Jesus of kids.

-Sometimes I just want to scream.

-That just begats murderous thoughts.

-I'm pretty certain I'm not jealous.

-It's alternating between awesome and living hell.

-I trust her not to hurt me again.

-I am no ones bitch and I hope she knows that.

-It'shopefully all cool mellow summertime vibes all day long.

-They smell like you'd expect Snow White's feet to smell.

-She has no idea how frightened and defensive I am.

-Cake is speaking to me in ways it never has before.

-This is all going to get a whole lot worse.

-I feel vaguely bad for thinking she's hot.

-And believe me when I say that I've done a whole lot of shit today.

-This house looks like crap.

-If I don't do it then no one will.

-Goddamn that shouldn't turn me on.

-It's like my thighs are on fucking fire.

-Still I think it was pretty fucking hot.

-It's an obsession.

-It's pretty grim and angry around here.

-I feel so fucking down.

-I'm napping when I get home for sure.

-Thank god I didn't get that job.

-She knows I would kill myself.

-That would be so hot.

-I hurt a lot.

-I don't give a fuck.

-Now it's just something that I do quietly by myself.

-I'm running on empty.

-Let's try that out and see.

-I am so pathetic.

-Awwwww fuck.

-I'm not hiding it, either.


-I have issues.

-Very weary.

-I hate doing this.

-Perfect feeling.

-I really do love my life right now.


-I'm pretty sure that would be innegal.

-What a great fucking week.

-The unappreciative cumbucket.

-I don't want to go back to being exhausted.

-Awesome fucking night.

-God that's hot.

-At least the fair is tomorrow.

-I'm pretty sure even SHE wouldn't rat me out.

-I'm exhausted.

-Very strange things.

-She knows I can't be as bold as she is.

-Not for anyone else.

-Good, fuck him!

-I'm having a really rough time today.

-Awww what the hell.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Selections from My Feature Film ...

(taken on the set of Smoke and Mirrors)

Back when I still lived in Phoenix my director friend Mr. Michael (alias Michael Alessandro) wrote an incredibly ambitious script involving gambling, sex, violence, betrayal, nudity, Las Vegas, homosexuality, murder and, above all, magic. He got some money together, held auditions, gathered a massive cast and said lets shoot this fucker.

He didn't LITERALLY says that. I was just looking for a way to try and sell one of my shirts that no one ever buys. Sorry. Continuing now ...

The result was "Smoke and Mirrors," a massively ambitious magician's crime noir film with a sweeping multilayered plot that featured me as a wimpy, luckless car thief and my then girlfriend Debby as a scheming big breasted young sexpot.

Mr. Michael tried to shop his film around but after finding no takers he decided to cut the film up, splice it with some impressive albeit laptop-style effects, and turned his film into "Smoke and Mirrors: The Magicians," a web serial that succeeded to premiere seven parts, each one five to eleven minutes each, before stress and personal matters (AKA a new baby) temporarily sidelined the epic project.

I know I should have asked first but I have taken the liberty of uploading the prologue and parts one and two of the film on YouTube in the hopes that it will garner discussion about the picture and hopefully become a source of inspiration to Mr. Michael himself, inspiring him to take a break or two from playing with his new son Daschle (yes, that's his kid's REAL name ... but since my youngest daughter was named after an actor from Plan 9, I can't really talk) to crank out a few more chapters.

And I don't say that simply because I'm IN the film. I say that because I'm a fan. This shit is good and I can't wait to know what happens next.

Here's the prologue and parts one and two. Let me know what you think ...


(part one, which I first appear in)

(part two)

The cast of Smoke and Mirrors

Parts three thru seven can be seen right here on the figuratively dust-covered web site which hasn't been updated in well over a year. Here's some fairly neato stuff for you to look for when you're viewing the remaining chapters ...

-Chapter three features more of me and your first glimpse of my ex-girlfriend's big naked titties

-I was a shadow in the bathroom of Jack Dawkins' hotel room in chapters three and four

-The beginning of chapter six has a sign which says "LIQUOR MOCCASINS" which I like to think are shoes for Indians made out of alcohol

-I can NOT be seen getting totally shitfaced blitzed drinking a literal beer called "Arrogant Bastard Ale" in the bar in chapter seven

-Check out Mr. Michael's big fat manchops in chapter seven. GOT-DAMN dude's got some serious chops (!!!!!)

-Parts of chapters six and seven have scenes filmed in Alcatraz penitentiary.

Again, please post a comment and let me know what you think. I'll pass along your comments to the director who just recently moved to Nebraska.

Thanks for your time.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Top 5 Best State Fair Concerts I've Ever Been To ...

5) Huey Lewis & the News
My first concert back in the eighties when they were important. To show how diverse my musical tastes were even back then, my second concert would be a young unknown band named Soundgarden opening up for Guns 'N' Roses. I remember very little about the concert except that they played all the songs they were supposed to play, there were a LAAAAAAARGE amount of middle aged white people falsely thinking that they could dance, and the fact that my long haired, angry, metal-loving older brother went with me automatically sucked all the fun out of the whole experience. Still, I saw Huey Lewis & the News in the eighties when they were worth two shits. And it was my cherry popping concert, too. Pretty awesome.

4) Stone Temple Pilots
Went with my happy-go-christian girlfriend and a severely square friend of mine from high school. I went to write about it for the school newspaper. I was supposed to write a straightforward review but I ended up getting stoned for the first time, entering a mosh pit, getting my face punched in, and getting saved from the mosh pit by a shirtless Cuckoo's Nest-looking indian guy. So I wrote an awesome little piece about modern music and my first (and last) mosh pit. Nice story. Cool concert. Would have ranked higher if it wasn't for the people I was with. You can't fully enjoy STP when your date is a horse-faced christian woman.

3) Soul Asylum
This is the sort of thing that we'd do all the time back in the 90s, be it me and Joey, me and Tom, me and Michelle or me and my brother. We'd do pointless shit for strange reasons and we'd always reap positive results. This concert is a fine example. My brother and I had nothing to do one day. I said, we could always go see Soul Asylum at the fair tonight. He said, but we don't LIKE Soul Asylum, to which I said, they DO sing that one song from the end credits of Clerks. So Joe and I ended up going to the state fair and sitting through an hour of a concert of a band we didn't even like just so we could hear that one song. That was fun as hell. And believe me when I say that when that damn song came on Joe and I stood up and yelled and screamed and rocked out like we were both six and playing invisible rock band in our bedrooms. Joe and I had fun, which meant more to me than the concert or the band, which makes this concert so damn special to me. Would have ranked higher if I actually gave a rat's ass about Soul Asylum beyond the song from Clerks.

2) Los Lonely Boys
The first concert my family, MY (!!!) FAMILY, ever went to together. Me, my wife, three-year-old Emerald and an unnamed fetus in my wife's belly. We sat on the lawn next to the big lake and listened to an incredibly mellow set of music from some long haired mexicans and we had a blast. I had a beer I was drinking. Natasha had fair food. Emerald danced. She still says to this day that her favorite band is, in Emerald-ese, "Los Lowzlee Boys" and every time I hear their music I think of Emerald doing ballet under a beautiful summer night sky with a radiant pregnant beauty right beside me. A perfect end to a perfect day. So why is this not number one? Because of The Whistler. Almost every concert has The Whistler nowadays, the drunk white guy who can do that annoying whistle thing with his fingers and feels the need to do it nonstop through the entire concert. Yeah. The Whistler was drunk and sitting a few people away from us. My wife was ready to strangle that Dale Earnhart-loving redneck assball. His nonstop whistling ruined what could have been a perfect state fair experience. If I see him I'll kill him, no doubt. God I hate white people sometimes.

1) Hanson
OH MY CHRIST Debby wanted to kill me! Damn that was awesome as hell. I went into that concert with the exact same mindframe that twentysomethings have when they buy their tickets to SoaP. See, the Arizona State newspaper was giving away two free admission tickets to the fair and two front row seats to that night's concert. There were five concerts they were doing this for ... hip concert, hip concert, oldies concert, rap concert, and Hanson. I figured that, seeing as these tickets were being given away to Arizona State University, the drunk bitch and date raping upper class asshole party capital of the world, my chances were best for the Hanson tickets. And not only did I win the fair passes and the front row Hanson tickets but out of the whole college I was the only one that had the testicular fortitude to try and win them. My girlfriend freaked out, my pierced pot-smoking high maintenance girlfriend freaked, no way she's be seen front row at a Hanson concert. This led to a nasty argument which ended in my favor with one concession. She's go with me but we wouldn't use the front row seats. She was so angry. I marked out, too, just like Snakes on a Plane, screaming HANSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON! YEAH!!! screaming and jumping up and down, pissing Debby off hardcore. We stayed for about 45 minutes, as long as we could stand. But as much as she was pissed, once we went outside and lit up, we were both laughing like mad. We saw fuckin' Hanson in concert That's fucking awesome.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Another Massive Monday Post ...

"Wait a minute, America isn't the hot-dog eating champion? Well, how could you let that happen? This whole nation is stuffing its face! Can't one of us do it at record speed?"
- Hank Hill

Ladies and gentlemen, the first and last time I will ever quote King of the Hill in the entire existance of this got-damn blog!

The first time I became aware of Kobayashi was during the Glutton Bowl, a two-hour IFOCE (International Federation of Competitive Eating) contest that aired on Fox in 2002. To see these massive fat men get bested by this skinny 24 year old little japanese guy, I remember jumping up and down cheering KOBAYASHI! In wrestling terms, I marked out for Kobayashi. That was in 2002. Now, in 2006, this skinny little jap has gone far. For starters, he's got his own web site, which is available in japanese and something claiming to be english. He's been on tv, on talk shows, on the radio, he's been making bank left and right, and all because he beats America's best fat people in being fat. Which is a discrace to America's fat people. Although I was once a fan of Kobe's, now I see him as a disgrace to all that is American.

Kobayashi, the six time consecutive champion of Nathan's Famous hot dog eating competition, must be taken down. He must be taken down by an American. And this year, at the legendary Nathan's competition, which really serves as the Super Bowl of competitive eating, an American came within inches of finally usurping the reign of Kobayashi.

(and his name is Chestnut)

Meet Joey Chestnut, a 22 year old Lance Armstrong-looking competitive eater from San Jose, California, who is currently ranked second in the world by the IFOCE. This year this young man came as close as anyone has ever come to unseating Kobe. This year at Nathan's, Chestnut ate 52 hot dogs and Kobayashi ate 53 and 3/4, a new record. Chestnut, a red blooded American, came one and three-fourths hot dogs away from finally bringing the title back to American soil.

Next year. Next year, my fine feathered friends. Next year will be forever known as the year ... of the Chestnut.
(the National Anthem plays in the background)

Now watch the Daily Show lose it ...

The Shoosher.
The damn Shoosher.
The GODDAMNED Shoosher.

I have a war now, a massive war, a holy war, a jihad if you will, and it is against that overweight craaaaazy white f-in Shoosher. I will not stand for this. I am out to kill, or at least maim. That's it! I have had it with these muthafuckin' shooshers in this muthafuckin' store! DEATH TO SHOOSHERS!

SO I was doing storytime this last sunday. Nothing too big, only about 13 or 16 kids. But they were really loud and really into it and, as always, I was getting the kids to interact with me and the story by talking and making animal noises and screaming and various whatever. Typical storytime, if a bit quieter than my usual storytime.

This fat lady comes up to the info desk and demands that the person working there, Nick, go into kids and make me be quieter. Nick, cool uncaring Nick, tells this female King Kong Bundy that not only is it storytime with kids and its usually loud and SUPPOSED to be loud ... but in my announcement on the overhead for storytime I ANNOUNCE that it IS GOING TO BE LOUD. Well the chick just gets even madder and storms off.

Later, she comes back.

"WELL ... have you TOLD him yet?!?"

Nick says no, reiterates everything he said before, so the lady GOES INTO KIDS and, standing near the entrance and the bargain octagon, does a full 45 seconds of "keep it down" sign language.

(oh yeah, that's a NECK massager, riiiiiiight)


That bitch, I later learned, complained that she was offended by the music when it was the Beach Boys and totally trash talked Mary for not devoting her life to Christ. And last night she came in and acosted two little girls for using My Little Pony keyboards a bit too much. Then she made fun of me. She's been coming in every day and preaching Jesus and frightening away our customers. And I pray to GOD and WOOD and JESUS and BUDDHA and MOSES and any other deity that's available that The Shoosher is there tomorrow during storytime because whether or not she's there, tomorrow's storytime will be without a doubt the


because I will not be shooshed and I will ESPECIALLY not be shooshed by a crazy overweight friendless stinky nutball Shooshy McShoosherson.

This is WAR, people. You're either with us or AGAINST us! Viva la Galindista! Death to Shooshers!

Here's another full episode of South Park. Cartman does something UNFORGIVABLE and the boys ignore him which makes Cartman think that he's dead. Pretty awesome episode. Enjoy ...

Tonight on WWE Raw on the USA network Jeff Hardy, undisputedly the hotter one of the two young Hardy brothers, finally returns. I am incredibly excited about this. I haven't been too much into wrestling lately save the occasional viewing of ECW, but Jeff Hardy coming back is probably exactly what its going to take to get me back.

I better dust off my DDP shirt and make a big sign to wave.

Ahhhh, the majestic African Elephant!

Well, that's that. See you later. Death to Shooshers.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Cat VS Dog ...

Round One:
Dog and cat try to get each other's food in a quick german (???) television food eating clip


Round Two:
Hungry Dog goes up against really fat cat for a bowl of food


Round Three:
Speedy Yorkie against angry black cat trying to stand her ground


Round Four:
Cat with kittens goes up against one clueless Pit Bull


This is it. We've come to the end of the road. It's the final round now as shaggy dog Ginger is being teased by dusty grey cat Rocky ... this is like Hogan against Andre the Giantor Undertaker versus Mick Foley, WHO will come out the ultimate victor? Will it be a cat's feminine-like dignity and pride or a dog's man-like ignorance and brute strength? THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!!!


Wow. That was a lot of fun, wasn't it? And is it as beautiful outside where YOU live as it is where I live? Because I swear if it got any prettier outside then animals would be singing like Snow White or something. Damn it's a gorgeous day today.

Now Early Bedtyme and the B.S.O. brings all y'all some free music up your ass. Enjoy them and have a good day ...

Kanye West: Gold Digger

Talib Kweli: Get By

De La Soul: A Roller Skating Jam Named 'Saturdays'

Dr. Octagon: Halfsharkaligatorhalfman

The Weakerthans: Confessions of a Futon-Revolutionist

Gym Class Heroes: Papercuts

Gym Class Heroes: Under the Bridge

Toto: Africa

My current favorite band THE FORMAT is playing The Boardwalk a week from today. And although we are broke as hell my wife and I have vowed that no matter what we have to do we WILL make it. So here's some concert psyching rock for you ...

Time Bomb

She Doesn't Get It

Pick Me Up

The Compromise (acoustic)

Your New Name (demo)

Friday, August 18, 2006

Fuzzy Galindo Pictures ...

This is NOT a Snakes on a Plane Post ...

... because I refuse to be one of the millions of young male twentysomethings who went from the 10pm thursday showing of Snakes on a Plane DIfuckingRECTLY to their computers to post on their blogs about the movie and how wonderful it is. Besides, the sheer weight of SoaP shit on blogs and livejournals is soon going to virtually CRUSH the entire internet under its massive weight.

So, just to clarify ... this is NOT a post about Snakes on a mutherfucking Plane and how awesome it is.

I will say this, however - I haven't been in THAT awesome of an audience since Tom and I got drunk and saw a standing room only sneak preview of Rumble in the Bronx on the campus of Arizona State. People screaming, cheering, yelling, laughing, the whole fucking nine. THROWING TOY SNAKES for shit's sake! If I ever live to see a modern day Rocky Horror cult be born, I saw it tonight with SoaP.

And to think, too, that when we first went into the theater it was almost morgue empty. My wife and I thought that everybody went down south to check out my old friend Greg's Dynamite Kablammo show.

Wow. Tonight was perfect. Marisa, the woman who like me has been hyped up for this for like a year and a half. My brother, who I got into the whole SoaP thing. Milton, cool ass man and a member of my crew. Me and my wife, in a rare non-children appearance. Gwen and her man. Andrew. Marisa's peeps, Joe's peeps, my wife's tits just out there and smokin'. Fuck that was perfect! We all somehow came together, all of us, to go and see ourselves a movie together. That was awesome. We'll all have to do that again in a month or two with Jackass 2 or the fuckin' Tenacious D movie.

And to think that the last time I saw a motion picture in the theater it was Aristocrats last year. WITH JESSE! And now I've seen those muthafuckin' snakes on the muthafuckin plane!

I'm going to have this song stuck in my head for like a fucking MONTH now.

Fuck me!

Thursday, August 17, 2006

I Be Gettin' My SNAKES On ...

At ten tonight my wife, my brother, his woman Jessica, Gwen, Gwen's canadian friend, Marisa, John and Amy, Milton and me are going to go to "the tits" and see Snakes on a Plane.

This is the first film I've seen in a theater since late last year.


click here for YET ANOTHER exclusive bit of dialogue from the movie "Snakes on a Plane!"

Cee-Lo: Ophidiophobia (from the soundtrack)

Cobra Starship: Snakes on a Plane (official theme song)

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Return to Beer Mountain ...

... tonight, due in large part to Nikara's hounding, my wife and I are heading down to visit the evil den of inequities known as the Maple Room.

Now, what with this blog going all the way back to November 2002, reading back thru all the past posts will show that I have Quite the sordid history with The Maple Room. It is a hip yet crappy dive that my brother works at, graduating from bar-fly to bar-employee. I spent pretty much all of 2002 and the first half of 2003 living there, drinking there, fucking and fighting there. It was fun and frightening all at the same time.

That last link that I put up is a post from September 6th, 2003 when I came to the realization (and I am dead serious about this) that ...

"The bar itself is a living, breathing entity kept alive through the negativity of its occupants in a very real, very Stephen King sense. Everyone every night coming in angry, getting in fights, dispensing drama, trading gossip, getting drunk which in and of itself is a negative act seeing as how alcohol is a depressant, and the bar was once a dormant building until so much anger and negativity floating through its doors caused it to stir. And now, like a bad horror movie, the bar is alive and it needs negativity to survive."

I'm weary to return, as I always am whenever we go over there to have a few drinks. I guess that's because there's always the chance of seeing The Big Him or Little Her or any of a number of former cast members from the scandalous play which is my life (read back thru 2002-2003 here in this bnlog for more info on all that).

We're leaving now. Wish me luck.

It's the End of the World ... Again ...

... ONCE AGAIN people are freaking out that the world is ending. I swear to God that this must be the fifth time that I've apparently survived the end times because clueless people keep SAYING the end is near, the end is near, becoming mindless religious Chicken Littles running around trying to scare all the OTHER mindless idiots out there. I can't believe that people, mainly the religious right, have yet to understand that armageddon fears are simply the result of people in power trying to scare you into servitude. AND IT'S WORKING, you ignorant bastards, and you don't even see that.

The end of the world is NOT coming from a swift hand of an angry and vengeful god and the end of the world is NOT coming from wars in the middle east. The end of the world is coming from the people who SAY that the four horsemen are saddling up while at the same time driving massive gas guzzling, ecosystem destroying SUV's and talking on their cell phones and having absolutely no care in the world for the world around them. THAT is how the world will end, not from god and not from jesus and not from christianity ignorance and right wing stupidity, a modern upperclass yuppie death for all of us.

All y'all are f-ing stupid.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Prominent Galindo Family Pictures ...

... cute smiling eleven month old Isabela Galindo ...

... four year old camera hog Emerald Galindo ...

... and my new short haircut!

And, on a slightly pathetic note ... we got a fucking dog. That is to say, my wife conned me yet again to agree to her having a pet. YET AGAIN.

So now we have a cat (outside), a hamster, a ferret, two fish, a loach and a goddamn dog.

However, I am EXTREMELY happy to report that our tiny little beagle puppy is named Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

Awesome ass name!