High-fiving instead of Supersizing me

Yes!
I am so over it!
Over what, you ask?
Effing McDonald's, man.
I was addicted to the deadly duo of a double cheeseburger and medium fries for three days a week for a period of two months. Each night, before the binging, I would feel actual symptoms of withdrawal. Just knowing that I was about to "fix" made me a wreck. Not to mention after I ate I just wanted to lie down and chill. That whole "fixing" and then just hanging really made me feel like I was shooting or hitting the pipe.
I'm no Morgan Spurlock, but I do agree with just about everything he said in Supersize Me, that pertains to the fast food industry. And I can certainly tell how the sugar, sodium, and trans fat stick to your body. I was steadily putting on weight and steadily disgusting myself.
I have not had the vile food in two weeks and am finally feeling like I have left it behind me. My energy is back up and my digestive track is regular again. Thank God. I don't know how much longer my friends, co-workers, and I could have stood my sewage gas.
I think a sequel to Supersize Me needs to be done. I think Morgan should should put himself on a diet of health foods that claim to be healthy. Like "made with whole grain" breads, "low fat" foods, and any other phony marketing scheme.
Yep, I'm filling lighter and my clothes aren't any tighter.
I must admit, the shakes were almost enough to make me cave last week. Now that I'm free from fast food what's next? Sex? Ha! it's been long enough already.

Digging Daddy Time

Yes!
I am a father.
Okay, not in the sense that I impregnated a woman or anything.
But, as of yesterday, I am the proud father of a short-haired, brown guinea pig named Pickles.
I don't think it has adjusted to me, yet. The manual says it could take awhile, and that the first day I should just leave it alone.
Last night before I went to bed I tried to give it a good night carrot. Pickles started racing around its cage like a brown streak of lightning. I perceived it as discomfort. I'm going to give it plenty of time to acclimate before I try to pick it up and cuddle it.
Don't worry. I'm not going to freak out and start buying clothes for it or anything. But I will take multiple pictures with it. Maybe even Wal-mart studio pictures.
Yep, expect Christmas cards with yours truly and Pickles.
I just needed something to care for. Something furry to play with. I just needed some company. And plus, if things go well with Pickles, I might actually be able to handle a dog, and then another human relationship. But for now I'm going to start small.
p.s.
The picture is not Pickles. A picture will surface soon. This is just one I found on-line, but they're guinea pigs, people, this one looks similar.

Birthday Wish

Yesterday was my birthday. I am now 27.
Great. One year older and one more reason to worry about my health.
In three years I can start to look for wrinkles. In three years I can start worrying about my hair falling out a little more than I do now. In three years I can start feeling like the creepy 30 year old who's not married and doesn't have kids and is dating on-line.
Now that I think about it I'm feeling a little like Billy Crystal in City Slickers. That scene when he's in his son's class room talking about death and being married to someone you don't recognize.
Don't get me wrong, I don't think Billy Crystal is funny. But that one scene in the movie, that was me yesterday.
This is what I want out of a birthday...instead of candles and cake and crap, I want to go back to one year of my life for one day and make a difference in my life. Or at least be able to go back to relive a day from my past. That would be the perfect birthday present. Maybe a day from high school or middle school. Someday when I could change something then that would effect me now. Kind of like a Back to the Future thing, only without Biff, he's an asshole.
But, honestly I spent last night at my parents' house. They cooked and my family bought me a cake and I actually blew out candles. I haven't done that in forever. All in all, it was nice. I guess I'm not so suicidal today.

The Good, the Bad, and the Inexcusable

I attended the Forecastle Festival in the great city of Louisville this past weekend and had quite a time.
I went for Dr. Dog. Or as Velocity Weekly calls them, "America's Gomez," which I don't think is a stab at all. I dig Gomez, as well.
I was able to be front row for the show that started late, due to sound problems. The sound check was very short, much better than Groovatron, but that's later in the blog.
Dr. Dog came to please.
Their infectious tunes and soulful singing woo you in close enough to blast you off with a steady stream of rocking out. My friend, Eric, said they reminded him of the Who when they "went off."
That's good. That's great.
I was pissed about the sound problems, though. But, like the true rockers they are, the band persevered. Periodically throughout the set, the guitarists, stage left, would go over and ax kick their shitty amps that were shorting out without missing a beat. It was so rock and roll.
I can't wait to see these guys again.
And now to Groovatron.
What the eff?
Okay, there's this movie Electric Apricot, by Les Claypool. It's a mocumentary about jam bands. There's a scene when they are in the studio and the drummer, played by Les, takes hours to tune his drum set. There might also be in a scene in This is Spinal Tap like when they sound check for like hours.
Any who, Groovatron spends twice as long to sound check, as they did to perform. They all sing, I think. They shouldn't. Their music sounds like Frank Zappa throwing up on Miles Davis. And that's putting it nicely. Their vocals could use a complete overhaul, and by that I mean stop singing all together. I saw this band on a campground at a Phish show, once. That's where they belong, campsites. Free campsites.
Their "fans" were the type of college kids with semi long hair, maybe even dreds, still wearing hemp, and probably tripping acid thinking they are counter culture. Kids are idiots these days. I guess they need a band like Idiotron to lead them.

Growing and Showing with Cinema

I am not ignoring the fact that by now every blogger in the world has written about The Dark Knight and Heath Ledger's performance and everything else that goes along with it. 

I know mentioning the movie might already be overkill. That in mind; I'm still going for it.

Every-so-often a movie comes along that contains the zeitgeist in which it is released. Dark Knight not only set box office records, featured a posthumous performance, and contained more special effects for IMAX theaters; it set the pace for US. It serves as a marker in time of where WE are. Amid upcoming elections, Olympics, war, and the shit hole economy, everyone was able to stop for a moment and  say, "Yeah, there we are." 

That idea has been echoing in my mind since Sunday when I saw the movie. 

I guess it's the same type of feeling when Jaws came out for the first time and had everyone afraid and buzzing. Or when The Wizard of Oz was finally converted to film. There was a new take on life and on the way films were made. We realized we had advanced. 

I guess what I'm comparing it to is when you are growing up and you mark your height on a wall in your house that you have been doing for years. You can see the lines and the date and actually track your growth. 

It's been some time since WE have stopped to measure ourselves, but I'm glad we did. Maybe next time we can use another significant event to mark it in the future. Until then I'm okay with the movie metaphors. 

Great films, great men, great yearning.

Why?
Why was I not born early enough so that I could have grown up in the seventies? I'm not going to say that I would rather live then, but I certainly would have loved it.
Okay, maybe that's a little vague. I mean, what's my reasoning, right?

Two names:
Frank Serpico and Popeye Doyle.

Damn, even those names are bad ass. If I had kids, I would definitely consider both full names.
Frank Serpico Aud and Popeye Doyle Aud. Maybe I'm getting off track.

I love the wardrobes of these movies. French Connection features European attire. Many of the characters are donned in Italian and French cut suits, jackets, and shoes. I love the fit. Their clothes actually correspond with their body type. It's so efficient. Oh, and the popped collars and overcoats just scream espionage.
Serpico features the same type of fitting attire. Although, Serpico has more flair than Doyle. Serpico is a chameleon. His array of hats alone impress me. I love the scenes when he comes in looking like a common hippy and the next day he's a rabbi. Genius! Serpico's transition from a clean cut rookie, to a mustached patrolman, to a long-haired bearded bad ass detective is amazing.

The color schemes are also what get me. I am now looking for that type of brown that's like an orange, but meaner. If I can find it in a jacket I will wear it now. I don't care if it's 94 degrees Fahrenheit! I'm wearing it and I'm packing a heater under it, too. That's right, a piece.

And doesn't anyone wear hats anymore? Everybody wore hats back then. It was so super spy cool! I' m bringing the hats back. I'm going out for the Fedora, the Bowler, and the Popeye Doyle. Yes, a cooler time when you could go into the brothers' bar and hear some nasty funk on the jukebox and cars were tanks. Yeah, want to be a seventies detective, but a name change would definitely be in order, maybe Sweeny Aud.

Back on the Bike

Yesterday was monumental.
Alright, so it wasn't actually monumental, but it was big.
I was able to get back on my bike and ride, baby. I rode like the wind.
After being grounded for just over a week after my toe-splitting wreck I was more than enthused about getting back on my hog. I'm talking about a bicycle, but so what? I can call it my hog. I never realized how happy simple exercises like riding a bike make me.
I spent a week limping around, constantly worrying about my toe getting hit by a swinging door, or some oaf clodhoppering all over it. It was nice to walk normal today and get on the instrument of toe death that maimed me. I showed you bike!
This is going to sound completely asinine of me , but what the heck. I felt like people were staring at me while I was limping with a bandage on my foot. I certainly could not handle a wheelchair, a walker, or any type of physical abnormality. I am shallow. I am vein. I am happy to look and feel the way I do.
I still can't run or play tennis, but when I do I'm going to kick my brother's ass.
Yes, I am back on the horse, back on the bike, and back on track.
p.s.
Yes, the picture truly embodies how I feel about it.