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2012-10: Where we talk about things

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

Megatradeshow week:

Yesterday, I found myself at a tradeshow in Chicago that was specifically for people who do things like run buildings. It was super-busy. Filled with dudes with biznass hair. All those dudes were showing their foreheads. The rest of the uniform consisted of a suit with azultooth, or dockers and a polo shirt blasting your company name. I was not fitting in very well. On the other hand it was rad to see my work in action.

Regarding this tradeshow: If you want to see some serious corpo-big brother action, stay alert to the work of businesses offering building solutions. They can smell you.

Also, shout out to part-time bloggerman, part-time mega-marketer Andre Wenzy of Boards & Brews who was there heating it up. I said hello and we spoke awkwardly for about 4 minutes.

Contrast all of that with SIA which goes down this weekend. I will look like the stiff, but still accept your beers. Thank you.

TheChicagoManualofStyleSixteenthEdition Brown and the Mystery of the Wrecked Wrist:

Upon returning home yesterday my wrist was sore. But not that “I’ve been masturbating for 6 hours” kind of sore. Plus, it was my left wrist. I stretched it out a bit and eventually went to sleep. This morning I am in 100% crippler mode. I would guess I have 50% range of motion and gripping strength. Plus it seems like it might be a little swollen, but that may just be my perception or my weight issues.

Now the question is, how has this happened? I haven’t put any extraordinary stress on the wrist as of late. I haven’t been to a house party, so this isn’t some I-was-so-wasted-and-woke-up-with-bruised-ribs-and-some-forgettable-leaning-towards-regrettable-broad situation.

Can you solve the mystery?

Karmic:

Yesterday, in the rain/snow I was walking to work and was hit with a tidal wave of gutter slush from a passing car. Head-to-toe splashed. I did my best seakkle and just kept walking. What else could I do? The moment it happened I was going to scream, but almost instantly something stopped me. I knew it was payback. Over a decade later the karmic forces have caught up to me.

It starts like this: A 17-year old Rumorator, behind the wheel of a, oddly khaki-colored VW station wagon. It is early spring. The snowbanks are melting. The sun this time of year in Northern Wisconsin gives a false sense of warmth. In the Volkswagen, the windows are down, Fugazi is in the tapedeck, Wheeler is riding in the passenger seat. We still had enough time before work at the YMCA to drive aimlessly and maybe smoke one more cigarette. We hadn’t even left the Third Ward when we saw him. Older, probably in his 60s, standing on the apron of his driveway between the sidewalk and the street. He was breaking away the layers and layers of ice that had been forming since November.

No more than five feet from him was a puddle of spring’s thaw. Dirty with salt and sand and the debris that accumulates during five months of no street sweeping. Wheeler and I knew what needed to be done. He began to roll up the window on his side. I shifted down into 2nd and pressed the accelerator. We rocketed towards the murk with the light roar of a German car that is passed its prime, but still had the strength propel itself towards this puddle or keep pace at 90mph after a long day of snow-boarding, and would until it was crashed into a deer on new year’s day. The whir of that motor didn’t phase the man in his driveway. He keep working even as the car hit the puddle, covering him with the largest slush wave a car like that could ever create.

I imagine, as he shook the slush and grime from his arms, he turned to see the car, to hear the mo-tor, now mixed with the laughter of youth, rounding the corner and speeding away. Not once did the feeling of guilt settle over us in that car. We knew funny when we saw it. We continued laughing for a few minutes. When the laughing finally died we turned the car back towards the scene and washed that dude one more time.

That is why I had to just keep walking yesterday morning.

Artist in Residence:

Shout out to The Second Inventor of the Worm, who was awarded a residency in Gwangju, South Korea

Dude is shooting films. Blasting.

Mouthful of Metal:

I ate at Kuma’s Korner last night. I had the Megadeth burger. Still felt like a pussy.

The future:

I’m probably gonna feel like this by the weekend:

Tags: Kuma's Korner, Stories from my youth, tradeshows, truckhoused
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator, Madison Anti-Boredom Campaign | 2 Comments »

2012-1

Monday, January 2nd, 2012

Happy New Year!
Whoo-hoo!
Okay, now can-it and let’s get to work here. We’ve got things to cover:

1th
Utah in 4 days. I got $5 that says I get no more than 9 runs in, over 3 days. Last time I was in Park City people were telling me what a horrible year it was. That was six years ago. This year people are saying “No really, this is the worst year ever.” I’ve seen this before, Jackson Hole in 1998 and again in 2004. Worst years ever.

Anyway, if you need me from Friday–Monday I will be camped out at CobraDogs.

2st
There was a mini QCC ‘leven thrown down. It was just me and Chip. And it involved Ashley’s and JJ’s Fish and Chicken.

Ashley’s: Located at 15rd and Center, people have been talking about this place being more legit than Speed Kween, which seems to be a point of contention. So we went. Parked the Silver Spurt and walked in. The interior is void of any seating, except for like 3 chairs against the wall. There was also Mortal Combat II, Ms Pac Man, some zombie shooting game, and a couple of unplugged video poker machines. The entire customer area was about 300sq. ft. and somehow they claim to run weekend buffets in this joint.

There were several menus, but none of them had pricing on them. One menu featured “Rack of Ribs” (no pricing), so I stepped to woman behind the bulletproof glass.
“I’ll have the rack of ribs?” that question mark represents the uncertainty of what I was getting myself into.
“Beans and slaw?”
“What?”
“YOU WANT THE BEANS AND SLAW?”
“Yeah.”
“AND?”
“A soda…a mountain dew I guess.”
“$19.89”

Shit.
JJ’s: The meal from JJ’s was catfish nuggets, salt, fries, salt and chicken wings with salt. It was like $9 with the salt and a free grape soda.

We went back to Co-host’s joint to eat this mess. The ribs from Ashley’s were stacked like 3 levelles deep and came with 4 pieces of white bread. The ribs were pretty damn tasty. The slaw wasn’t worth putting in my mouth. And the beans, while they looked unappealing they were okay, but not good enough to put in my quickly filling gut.

Moving into the JJ’s meal, Chip had warned me that the fries sucked balls and there may be bones in the catfish nuggets. After one bite of everything we began discussing the finer points of JJ’s triple salting process. That was basically the highlight of JJ’s. That was seriously the saltiest food I have ever consumed. Even when my parents were in their hippie phase and we had goats with salt blocks to lick and my older brother made me lick that salt block, I was thinking, “This is salty, but someday I will eat at a place called JJ’s and it will be way saltier.”

In the end I was a little bummed out. I wanted JJ’s to be good. I wanted it to be this gem that everyone just drives past and assumes if a crappy place to eat [Eddie Vedder voice] even though [/Eddie Vedder voice] it’s amazing. But nope, it’s just a crappy place to get salty food. The mural inside is shitty too.

Ashley’s on the other hand it worth going back to. So solid. Just don’t get the full rack of ribs.

3nd
I was in the middle of bagging on these books, when someone told me how good they were. I really don’t believe them, but it made me feel like an asshole.

Whatever. I judge these books by their covers, but more by their shitty titles.

4st
I drove over my snowboard, and I really working on those lip slides.

Tags: Ashleys, books, food, JJ's Fish and Chicken, Snowboarding, snowboards
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator, Madison Anti-Boredom Campaign, snowboardering | No Comments »

Torontario

Wednesday, November 30th, 2011

Day A

Border patrol agents are no joke. Roll the window down and the car up to their little booth. And there she is—Heated. The last two times I’ve rolled into Canada I’ve dealt with really attractive border agents. She looks at me,
“Citizenship?”
Me, no words just hand her my passport.
“Of what country are you a citizen?”
“USA! USA! USA! USA!”
She wasn’t impressed and fired off a bunch of other questions. But she was nowhere near as grilling as the French-Canadian sassy-lass Flawsy Files and I dealt with.

If you drive any slower the oppression gets you.

And just like that, I was in a foreign country. No longer was the Christian god that speaks to politicians watching over me. These people could smell the freedom on me.

I landed at the Domincan’s place. I’m pretty happy to report that the Dominican doesn’t live in an igloo. Mosty because he is a USA-er and therefore they treat him like a king. He has a great little joint in Kensington Market. And that hood is serious. Mega graffiti, crust punks, produce stands, a two-block walk to Chinatown, and the oppressive feeling that comes from not have cops slow down and look at you. It immediately made me uncomfortable. I should note I went the entire weekend followed by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I could feel the freedom slipping away.

Day B
Friday we hustled about on Queen and Richmond. Stopping in and out of shops. Looking at all of their third world clothes and making jokes about their money. DOLLAR COINS! That is absurd! And the prices…HA! I paid like $4(can) for a canadicano, but I had to because their money is not American.

You know how when you go Mexico and a beer is like 6 million pesos, or you can trade a Nissan for a guy’s daughter? At first there is sticker shock, but then it’s cool because that 6 million pesos is only like $5.50 and that Nissan was 2008 rental with insurance anyway. That’s how Canadian money works as well.

At this point I also ate a nutella and banana crepe.

I did see a lot of people wearing nice vests. I suspect these are the igloo dwellers. Some wore Penfield branded ones because clearly they wanted to be Americans. At one point, late on friday night, a woman in a beaver pelt vest was trying to give me Canadian money, but I just laughed at her. Her money was of no use to me, an American. Others were wearing Canada Goose branded ones, I can only assume these are lesser coats because they are made in Canada. This was probably some nationalistic, anti-USA-er shit going on, but I handled it well as I am pro-vest.

We went to The Stussy Toronto shop which was rad, as well as the Undefeated shop next to it. Then we went to Livestock and some sneaker shop next to that. It was rad to see those places packed. Especially because it wasn’t even Black Friday up there, they just called it “Friday.”

Then we rolled over to the CN tower, which is like the Canadian Space Needle, I snapped out my credit card to pay for the tickets and the counter girl was all “Ahh, American?” She could tell because my credit card wasn’t “chipped.” I assume that is how they track Canadians—chipped credit cards.

I suspect counter girl alerted the Royal Canadian Mounted Police of my presence, because when we left I had my first run in with the “Mounties”

But both sides played it cool.

Staring down a Mountie

Day C
Saturday we tooled about in the financial district for a minute and went to a meat and seafood market, where I had another nutella and banana crepe. Of course the Mounties were back. But no worries, I hid from them this time.

the Mounties, though deadly, cannot look to their right or left. Like the mighty alligator.

Later this day I stumbled up a place called Canadian Tire, which had a serious lack of tires and Canadian Tire Toques. I’m pretty sure they could have just called it Tire though, as I have never seen that place in America. I also saw a place called the Hudson Bay Company. I can only assume hunting and trapping is still huge business there as that store took up an entire city block. I wonder what the going rate is on a beaver pelt these days?

Suddenly, it was dark, because of the metric day being shorter and all. But the Mounties were still out. By this time I’d had enough, and I was seriously smashed the fuck up on some Canadian Club 1.2 Dekayear Whiskey.

It's like a new cold war right there.

The next thing I know it was Day D, I had a Canadian cold (should have gotten shots) and was driving home pumping quota rock, all the way back to the border, and freedom.

Tags: Border Patrol mamas, Canada, Canada Goose, Canadian Tire, Freedom, Hudson Bay Company, Igloos, Mounties, Penfield, Quota Rock, RCMP, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Torontario, Toronto
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator, Madison Anti-Boredom Campaign | 2 Comments »

Profile and Front

Wednesday, November 9th, 2011

And then the jooks go down.

I feel I should update my Twitter bio. Currently it just says, “Probably going to kick your ass.” But given the dream I had the other night it’s probably not accurate anymore. In this dream I was walking past a crowd of OWS types, but I don’t think i was in NYC. But I could have been, because I remember seeing Shira and Jeff walking ahead of me. But I don’t know that it was them for sure. It was just that dream reassurance. Like, who else could it be?

So I keep bopping by and there was this little 10-ish year old kid trying to start a fight with me. I just kept moving, but finally gave in and started pushing him away. And he’s straight up attacking. Then a cop gets involved. I start walking away and the cop tells the kid he’s just got to kick me right in the dick. Right in the balls. Right in the nuts. Right in the jatz cracker. Then the dream ended.

So I didn’t really get beat up by a 10-year old kid in my dream, but i certainly didn’t win. Therefore, these are the options for new twitter bio:

Snowboarder, Biker, Copywriter, Leftist, Fuckarounder.
1987 Betty Crocker Chili Cook-Off Champion. Autofellatiist.
The Internet
Not of the attic-dwelling Franks. Follow me and I’ll follow back!
Gold Teeth. Black Lungs. Whiskey Dick.
Raised by wolves. Born to die.
Does not shut up.
The zeach of life.
I’m in the business of getting business done.
Dainty.
I once lived in a shack with that dude everyone calls Bon Iver.

Vote early, vote often!

Tags: dreams, Lists, twitters, zeach
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator, The Race Card | 4 Comments »

Your Costume Sucks

Thursday, October 27th, 2011

Late nighting this jawn. But it’s important to be, you know, bloggin’.

So anyway, I stopped at Boswell Books to pick up my copy of 1Q84 and of course I had to put on a good show. So I was properly pressed, wearing a wool driving coat and a matching scarf and gloves set. Oh sure it was like 50 degrees, but i needed to make a statement. I needed to be literary. So I dashed into the bookstore and and looked around frantically (one literary point for me), saw the book and darted towards it. I picked a copy and fondled it for a bit (another literary point) and walked to the register.

The sexless glob behind the counter picked up my book and and said “This is such a great book” (1 literary point).

OH! Now who the fuck is this? Trying to out-literary-cockstrut me? THIS SHIT IS ON, MOTHERFUCKER!

“Yeah he’s a great writer (1 point), I’m so glad this book has finally been released here, in the US (bonus), I read an excerpt from it in the New Yorker (DOUBLE BONUSES!).”

Suck it counterbeast! Go back to your 20-oz Mountain Dew and your virginia ham Lunchables.

And it was just like that. I flopped it out and measured all ten inches of my literary dick. The ink sniffing, money taker was certainly defeated.

“We got one advance copy here, and I’m almost to page 700.”

WTF? Thou wuzzist not ready for that shit indeed. So picked it up my book, flopped the meat back over the barbed wire and walked out.

I lost, boys. I lost.

Double Down

I got this lady in my life. She’s pretty much the closest thing I have sister. We’ll call her Yella. So Yella’s son “The Hache” just got himself a skateboard. Dude’s on it young, 6-years old-ish.

I swear to god, if that kid ends up skating mongo he’s out of the fucking will.

Triple shot Thursday

It’s Halloween weekend and you’re probably still looking for a costume. I know I am. I’ve always wanted to go as Oscar the Grouch. Full on, with Bruno carrying my ass around in a can. Such a costume is some serious work, so I’ve never done it. That, and the logistics of peeing are mind bokkling.

Whatever, here are my suggestions for you this year.

Brian Wilson (San Francisco Giant)
Brian Wilson (Eugene Landy Puppet)
Girl in a poodle skirt
Guy in a tuxedo shirt
Dabney Hiscock (Early 2oth century British porn star)
Keyes and Hayek (Economists, companion required, and you better learn the raps)
Gert Mallets (Early 2oth century British queen of anal)
Dong Frowley (Early 2oth century British porn star, aka Come On Your Face Michael; half asian)
Paddy Munch (Early 2oth century British porn star of Irish decent)
A canoe
Kate and Julia Morkan (Sisters, elderly porn tag-team queens in early 20th century Ireland. These bitches hosted some killer orgies, especially around Christmas; companion required)
Clive Nutts (Early 2oth century British autofellatio master)
Rumorator (Fatsuit, kimono, cigarettes)
Harold Plundercunt (Early 2oth century British bookkeeper, amateur porn director)
Frank London (Early 2oth century British pornstar, only did guy on guy on guy work)
Moai
Moishe Oofnik
Clara Analman (Early 2oth century British porn star, she once blew like 40 vicars in one hour)
Maneki Neko Case (Figure it out)
Lenehan Milkbreath (Early 2oth century British porn star, rumored to have 27 literary centimeters)

Tags: books, Halloween, Lists, porn star names
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator, Listed, Madison Anti-Boredom Campaign | 6 Comments »

Hawaiian Dispatch for Friday.

Friday, September 23rd, 2011

Touched down in Hawaii on Monday after roughly 16 hours of airports. I checked into my hotel to find it has a monorail to take you to your section of hotel. It also has a Venice style gondola system but that is under repair. I should really ask for a partial refund.

Night one: I’m tired. Way tired. Awake for 21 hours kind of tired. But there was no way I was passing up some rumorator.com paid for sushi so I dropped into the Japanese joint complete with a moat stocked with koi and birds that made me say “oh fuck, those are for real.”

Stuff my fat face with some sushi and down some sake and run into some broad at the sushi bar. BOOM chitty chat chitty chat. I ask her nothing and I tell her nothing because I figure it’s best we don’t really talk. More sake. She’s here until next week. Me too. She’s in the palace tower. Me too. Well if I want to drink more sake tomorrow I should call room XXXX.

Sleazy.

Next day: Research

Next night: call room XXXX Go to Luau. Eat mega. Drink tropical drinks until I’m staring at boobs. Minor Romance.

What are you doing here?
I’m on my honeymoon.
Yeah right.
No Really.

I guess that doesn’t faze rumorator.

Next day: Put in some work. Start feeling this sunburn. Meet up with Left Ear Lopez and dump red mazzel for a red jeep. Immediately get the top off, much like I’m thinking about doing with room XXXX.

Next Night: Dinner in Kona with girl from room XXXX.

Where’s you’re husband?
Golfing
At night?

Yesterday: All day with girl from at waterfalls and botanical gardens. WTF?

Last night: Hilo. This whole island uses weird streetlights with crazy iodine-ish bulbs. As a colorblinder, I can’t tell the difference between streetlights and stop lights. That’s no joke. I have also made a promise to myself that I will not put the top up on the jeep. Thus I was bundled up driving the jeep from Hilo to Waikaloa through 60-degree weather and rain. RUGGED.

I gotta get some sleep so can surf in the AM.

So anyway, I guess I’m on someone else’s honeymoon right now. Sucker.

But first you want some pics? You got some pics:

Pretty slick room, eh?

I was quite wrong to assume that this was my man servant for the week. But really, a dude in vase is kind of creeper.

all hail

interesting art around this joint

Yeah for real, she's married. Unless it's clever rouse with that ring and all.

It's like Jurassic Park around this joint, but with the Vuk.

dead fish don't talk

Kolekole Beach. BLOWING UP SPOTS!

Tags: Hawaii
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator | No Comments »

Dimebags of Funk

Tuesday, September 13th, 2011

1th

So 9-11 came and went. But not without an absence of fanfare. And of course the NFL was out there, with their mullets and ‘merican flag tee shirts. Brainwashing, a la ‘merica right there.

For real, at one point some dude, no clue who he is, was interviewed with the caption “Cleveland Browns Tight End Coach on 9-11-01.” Fox Sports just grasping at straws. I’m surprised they didn’t interview me with the caption “Poorly performing student on 9-11-01.” It probably would have been more poignant and compelling. Right up until I mentioned the plane getting shot down over Pennsylvania by USAer F-14 fighters..

Anyway, Conspiracy Me is also thinking that this is an effort by the right wing to make September 11^th some sort of holiday. September 11^th will, from now on, be the new end of summer. It’s cool, we’ll get rid of Labor Day. That’s not an American holiday anyway. Assholes.

2rd

Woman in bar: Do you remember where you were on 9-11-01?
Rumorator: I was on a flight from Boston to LA.

That joke didn’t play well. Assholes

3st

Pretty cryptic telegraph coming in from DanVan3000 in DeepEar.
Regarding the Boundary Waters Area Forest Fire that is causing smoke to drift over all over the great state of Wisconsin.

It’s so bad we are wearing wet handkerchiefs over our faces [STOP]

and that’s just to get around in the house[STOP]

We would not even consider roaming outside for fear of the acid rain potential[STOP]

The locals are taking up a collection to build an Ark at the mouth of the Fox River[STOP]

in order to save the few remaining animals [STOP]

They hope to float it down Lake Michigan to the Illinois River [STOP]

in order to cross breed some of the animals with the dreaded Asian [STOP]

Carp. [STOP]

We can only hope and pray that we some how survive this painful ordeal [STOP]

Gotta go for now, the ashes are starting to eat through the vinyl siding [STOP]

Yours in Christ,
DanVan3000

4nd

I’ve got a sweet new voice mail message. All you MFers should call and listen to it. You know the number.

5st

Truckhoused

GarbageTruckHoused

6th

Thanks to KatieG with the bumps for this one:

Tags: 'merica, Football, Freedom, nature, Truckhouse, truckhoused
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator, Politiks | 1 Comment »

No, I’m not crying, I just yawned.

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

Hi everybody! Remember me? Remember this blog? I’m gonna give it another go.

1th

The past few months have been shakey. There have been things going on in. Moving be the big thing. I’m taking this jug of bum piss known as a blog back to Madison.

Kinda have mixed emotions on this one. The gig bringing me back to the capital city is a great one, but Madison is small town. Plus I’ll be further from a major airport. Further from the lake. Further from the 100 ways Milwaukee has been rad.

Madison is essentially like living in riverwest all the time, except the cars on blocks are all volvos.

There are also a lot of folks wearing khakis around this joint.

2rd

This is pretty much my favorite piece of graffito in Milwaukee. I’m going to miss seeing it whilst riding bike.

3st

When you see it, you’ll shit brix unincs

Tags: Gigi Ruf, Graffito, Madison, Milwaukee
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator | 1 Comment »

Dodging Rain Drops

Wednesday, June 22nd, 2011

Yo, Rumorator, have you been out biking lately.

Umm, nope. Um, nope. It’s raining like a beast around here. Trails closed all over the place. I keep thinking it will get better, but, umm, nope.

But I still have a bike. I ride it when the weather is agreeable.

And at least my bike doesn’t look like this:

Look at that thing. Skinny tires, no suspension, dual water bottle cages. Fuck that thing.

Summer Retreat

Tuesday, June 14th, 2011

Camped out at the summer home. Where you gonna find me?
Pedaling a bike? Perhaps.
Listening to raps? Yup.
Trying to live an entire month pushing out asparagus pee? Like a fact factory.

Really though, the summer home is similar in location and design to the winter estate. In fact, I’ve built an exact replica of the estate, directly adjacent to the aforementioned estate. From this summer forward, the winter estate shall be known as Briarsnatch (as it always has been) and the summer home shall be referred to simply as Corriander Falls at Fetal Acres.

To say it is a replica is no exaggeration. Everything is the same. Floor plan, the over-sized Dead Kennedys poster used as a shower curtain, the fireman/stripper/fireman-stripper pole that connects all three floors.

Still The NPR crowd keeps rapping:

Please, for the sake of humanity stop making raps. It does no one any good.
Unless you’re these guys:

How the balls does the Whole Foods song have more views than Meter Feeder? This is what’s wrong with America.
New goal in life: grow Aesop Rock hair.

The second part:

I did get a new helmet.

And that’s a plus because I’ve taken to crashing my bike all over the place.

For those of you who care, it’s a SixSixOne Recon Helmet. And if anyone says it doesn’t fit on a large head, they are lying to you. Shit it protective. Shit is somewhat radder. Shit is designed for the large headed. Shit is A+ in my book.

The Triumvirate:

Humboldt Fog is pretty legit. Whole Foods rappist had that part right.

Four:

What do you know about running a Nissan Leaf off a Tesla Coil? IS IT DOABLE? I might need TheFlawsyFiles to put me in touch with Bill Nye the science guy on this one.

Tags: Bikes, NPR Raps, Rap, Six Six One Recon
Posted in A Very Special Rumorator | 3 Comments »