Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Flashlights, not fingers.

The last girl I thought I was going to marry was Barracuda Fish. We were 20. She was freckled, skinny, and awkward. She had a thing for Frank's Red Hot Sauce and Archie comics. I didn't even think she was that cute when we met, partly because she had this boyfriend hanging around all the time. But he messed up, as boys do habitually.

I slipped a little note into her suitcase at Christmas. I think a present too, though I'm forgetting what that was now. (edit: it was a talking Rugrats watch from Burger King, good job brain). By Valentine's day we were sweethearts. And by Spring Break we had already agreed to meet in Seattle for spring break. She was going to fly with her girlfriends, and myself and my drummer and good friend Gary would drive out the 26 hours from Colorado.

We listened to lots of music. I discovered Medeski, Martin, and Wood.

We made it to Seattle, frazzled, and tired. A few days later we decided to go to Canada. We hadn't thought about it until we approached the border, but we had 7 people in a pickup truck. 4 in the front, 3 in the back. The border guard asked us to pull over so he could search the vehicle, and of course, he found a small bit of pot under one of the seats.

They lined us up. They had the dogs sniff us. They separated us and asked us questions. They took my spiked bracelet and made me "surrender it to the crown". And the cherry on top, they strip searched us. With a flashlight. I hope I never have to lift my sack for a man on command ever again. (He wasn't even from my country!) I'm actually fine with people seeing my butt. Whatever, I'm not that shy.

But Barracuda Fish had hives, she was shaking and crying. She is very modest and the whole thing was a little too much.

Then they let us go. Said "Thanks for visiting Canada, and welcome". That simple. Weird right? I think they felt a little bad about putting us through the whole process, and shaking her up so bad. We were able to drink in Canada, even though we were only 20. We shared pitchers of Molson. We all spent the night together, seven of us, in one motel room.

She and I slept together, on the floor.

In the morning, Gary and I woke up early and said good-bye to the Girls. They were going back to Seattle, and then flying out on Saturday. We were going to visit my older brother in Portland before we started the long trip back to Colorado.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

High Standards, Low Battery

Hey ladies, I'm a 28/m and I.... and I...

This is never going to work. Look at all these guys on here, I look nothing like them. I have no facial hair, no big muscles or fat belly. I'm a skinny, hairless, guy that looks 10 years younger than he really is. The internet is not a place for me to find a date, apparently. Maybe my dog will have a better time getting a date, let's try.

"Hi everyone, my name is Indiana, but you can call me Indy. I have a ball, would you like to throw my ball? My interests include obedience, sleeping in, and going outside for any reason at all (excpet when it's raning) I'm an old man, 70 if you can believe it (I like to stay in shape), and I'm HWP. Um... one thing though. I really don't like loud noises so NO FIREWORKS PLEASE. I'm strict about this. Pic 4 Pic!"

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Don Flamingo

I found this website today. It's for a piece of software that's coming out on the PSP and the iPhone called Beaterator. I know it's spelled Flamenco. I didn't want to break the theme.

This took about twenty minutes to create. The finished version will let you create your own drum loops, and use the mic to record and loop vocals and instruments. Don Flamingo by measureandscale