I said strive, I should have said thrive.
Archive for the ‘Madison Anti-Boredom Campaign’ Category
2012-17: Lisptrack #7: The Winter That Wasn’t and Dog Stories
Thursday, February 16th, 20122012-13: Mega Sprots! Weekend: How to Host the Best Super Bowl Party Ever, America
Friday, February 3rd, 2012Let me guess, you’ve come to my blog looking for tips on how to throw the best Super Bowl party ever. And all the other blogger sites just keep telling you to “have plenty of drinks (even non-alcoholic ones, hehe)” and “just wrap it in bacon.”
Well shit, I got some real tips to help you enjoy the Super Bowl.
Make the game high stakes. Upon your guests arriving, ask them which team they are backing. Make a note of their response. Every time the Gigantes score, the Patriots fans lose a finger. When the Patriots score, Gigantes fans lose a finger.
Install flame throwers and confetti cannons that will discharge whenever there is a score, or jared, the piece of shit from the Subway ads, shows up on the screen.
Try some exotic snacks. We’ve already covered that bacon is over. Way over. So why not go way out and get some horse meat. But don’t tell your guests until after they have eaten. If you really want to take this to the next level, invite your neighbor and feed him his own cat. After the game hand him the cat’s collar as a parting gift.
Be sure to arrange the seating properly. For this, make sure everyone can easily see the television. In fact it’s better if people cannot make eye contact with each other. No one needs that kind of shame. Also supply blankets.
Every time someone says “I’m only watching it for the commercials,” they lose a finger.
Find out what station the Super Bowl is on. Now make sure your don’t get that station. This will probably anger some guests, so be sure to have Tecmo Bowl ready to play when things get heavy.
It’s a real downer to mention how many millions of dollars it costs the government to have a fly over from fighter jets. To lighten the mood I usually mention that I could stand out there and wave my dick around for like $6.
Taco Dip!
Make it an entire Super Bowl season. For the next three weeks, whenever someone mentions, with an air of smugness about them, they didn’t watch the Super bowl, or at least get a little drunkish, throw them in a headlock and tell them about America. How we conquered the Indians, created the bald eagle, and goddammit, we watch the Super Bowl. Unless of course the Super Bowl non-watcher was riding snowboards.
Sit around and wait for this ad to come on:
Then think about these dudes rolling around in piles of money:
And then think about the day Brad and I were in a scooter gang.
BTW: totally took that pic from the hometapes website.
2012-10: Where we talk about things
Tuesday, January 24th, 2012Megatradeshow 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:
2012-7: Ask the Editor
Tuesday, January 17th, 2012
Here goes. Wait. Stop.
Pssht. False start. You should go read megablog over at flawsyfiles. It’s a keeper, for sure.
Now, it sould be noted that I passed a very important e-milestone today. That’s right, 10,000 twitters. 10,000 twitters, I just tossed the rig in park and I’m just gonna leave it there, idling. Not even taking the plates off it.
I’m sure some of you are going to be all like “WTF mate? Kory Stamper? What kind of crap 10,000th tweet is that?”
But really I think you need to check this lady out.
Classic case of girl nerded the fuck out. You never even notice her, but then one day she drops Octopodes on you and BLAWF! You’re hooked. Done and over. Plus, she is getting more and more and more attractive. Seriously. Timeline her. She’s pretty much the best thing to happen to words since Kafka on the Shore, which is the best thing to happen to words since Party Girl, which is the best thing to happen to words since the word “word” was coined.
Amazing. She ever has this in her Google Bio: bewildered Internet phenom
MammaJamma knows she’s enets mega. Adding her blog to the blogroll as well, because words are what’s happening.
I don’t even know where I was today before I learned Associate Editors name.
2012-6: In which we discuss animals, humans and gods
Monday, January 16th, 2012We’re gonna start today off with a few questions
1. How does a dog that size create such massive craps?
2. Are you ready to hear a story about the majesty of nature? I hope so, because it’s gonna end up like Wild America in this section.
3. People I know.
4. People I would like to know.
5. WTF Kiera Knightly?
6. BONUS! JESUS.
(Colin) 1th: Dumps like a truck truck truck
I am currently in the practice of dog-sitting. This is new to me. And there are a few things I need to lay out. I find it hard to respect a dog named for a Lioness. A tiger maybe. I mean a fucking tiger is a killing machine. But a lioness? I’ll sit a top a Range Rover and land headshots on a lioness and her cubs all day. Then I’ll bring them home illegally and get them taxidermed into a anthropomorphic setting of a family of lions getting ready to go to church on a Sunday morning. The mother wearing an apron, cooking up gazelle bacon, and all the cubs in their Sunday dork clothes, sitting around the table. To display such a huge piece of kinked out nature porn I would probably get a new place. Or put it in a storage locker, until I forget about and 3 years later Darrell bids on it early because he sees the wow factor in such a set up. Dave Hester would bid the bitch up high because Dave would know the value of some poached and taxidermed lions. But ultimately it would go to Barry because that dude knows some weird shit when he sees it. This is pretty much why you give a dog a proper dog name.
Also, this dog takes the massivest dumps. Human sized. And I have to pick them up. It’s awesome.
2st: Mild Awareica
I was recently in a city. And in that city was a building. And in that building there was a second floor landing. And on the second floor landing was the most majestic painting of two bald iggles ever seen outside of Brackendale, B.C. It was powerful.
So I turn to C-blast and ask her to snap a pic of it and send it to me, as my phone is out of battery powers. She did. Snapped and sent. Then she deleted it. What an asshole! Now I cannot share this majesty with you. You all feel cheated.
You wanna talk more about Animals? I can do that. Just dig on this.
The SIA meeting emails are rolling in and I’m not sure who I am looking forward to speaking with the most, but something tells me this is high on my list:
I hope they let me demo one.
3nd: People I know
When I was not looking at majestic avian images this weekend, I was turning screws and helping my homey Keef hand snowboards to people. I really thought I was beyond that phase in my life, but I guess not. It was wicked fun and I got a few runs in myself.
Plus Poco, Hans G and PlanetJakerzz stopped by to talk shit. That can make most days pretty rad.
4rd: People I wish I knew:
This is a list of names of people I wish I new:
· Roger Steambreath
· Michael Goldfronts
· Les Jailface
· Coffeepot Jones
· Pull Thunderton
· Steven Filthcramp
· Kjersti Buaas
· Pickles French
· Seaver Cloggs
· Boushh
5st: Kiera Knightley in a low-cut dress
Why the fuck does Kiera Knightley only act in steampunk movies? Does she hate the modern era? Is it that she really isn’t that good and relies on over-the-top costume work to carry her? For real, check out this IMDB list.
I don’t know why I am even concerned with this.
6nd: Bonus
Get with it: Actor, Models and Talent for Christ.
A few things to cover here, starting with “CSO, chief serving officer.” Listen up. If was going to dedicate my life to modeling, acting of talenting for the jesus prints, I would want someone with connections and business acumen. Not someone who re-titles himself or herself into a submissive roll. Also she is a “late-in-life committed christian” which pretty much means she cannot be held accountable for hanging out with gay men, doing drugs, or the like 100s of dicks she has put in her mouth/vagina/anus. We can’t blame her because jesus hadn’t spoken to her yet. No no no. I cannot handle the sham that is “late-in christianity.”
Lastly their contact number is 800-STAR-420. This is all a joke right?
Fuck it. I can’t handle the sham that is christianity.
2013-5: This Too Can be Your Entertainment
Wednesday, January 11th, 2012I’m going to see these dudes make music on Friday at some thing called FRZN Fest.
Normally I would object to any event that shuns vowels, but I’m gonna make an exception here.
2012-1
Monday, January 2nd, 2012Happy 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.
Head Above Surface
Thursday, December 22nd, 20111th
This is where we’re at for now:
1. There is now real snow here.
2. The fake snow is now like concrete, with ribbing.
3. I am too afraid of falling to get mildly wicked on the shredder.
4. This is what happens when I decide rails should be part of my first run of the day.
call me anytime, ladies.
2rd
Early Season Product Review
Holden Field jacket: Still long, but I’ve gotten used to it
Holden Durden pants: The legs are still attached and I haven’t caught my peep in the zipper yet. In reality I like these pants much more than I anticipated. I find them agreeable.
Burton Pointer pants: Solid pants, again the legs are still attached and no dick carnage. I like that these have buttons rather than snaps. I suspect I can ride switch in these.
Burton Mr. Nice Guy: This is a fun thing to have strapped to my feet. I am pleased with my purchase.
Orange-ish/Red toque I found in my basement: Top notch. Rather versatile, I can wear it alone, under my helmet or even just tucked into my back pocket. Also, warm. Great on boxes and rails.
8 days of a sore ass-muscle: Fuck this thing.
3nd
Hackmode
Maybe I’m just missing it.
But I don’t think so. Let’s cover the key elements here:
· An snowman with a high heel shoe as his nose
· The line “Frosty the Crossdresser”
Do you get it? Are you laughing?
Does this make any sense to anyone? Am I missing something? Is it something with the hair or the shape of the mouth? I’m so confused. I’ve always known a crossdresser to be someone who dresses as the opposite gender. I’ve also always considered snowmen asexual. I can say this because at no point in my life have I thought, “I’m kinda wanna see that snowman’s donger or vagina.” Which is uncommon, as I’ve thought that about most personified and a fair number of inanimate objects.
Now had the heels been simply put at the base of the snowman I would get it. It wouldn’t be funny, but I would understand it. But the heel as a nose, where it is replacing a button or possibly a carrot, is beyond me.
This is probably going to ruin my Christmas.
Come, Hear My Tale
Wednesday, December 14th, 2011Singles.
I’m pretty sure we have entered the end of days for my wallet. It’s been a good run. I think I picked this beast up sometime in the mid-nineties. Someone told me Kenneth Cole was the heat. I even had a pair of shoes the company made. They were shoes with a monkstrap. I knew this. The fact that I knew this probably had something to do with me not helping some broad get a role on Teen Mom.
But it was a shaky time. I needed an unchained wallet. Madre and Padre Rumoratario wanted me to look respectable. They thought my size 40 pants were an abomination. But they let me roll around on 39mm wheels like it was totally acceptable. Where was the good parenting then? C’mon dad, you couldn’t have pulled me aside and been like, “Child, get yourself some respectable wheels, like at least a 55. Also those jumbo trousers aren’t helping land any broads on Teen Mom, if you know what I’m saying. ”
PhlawsyPhiles is telling me to get on board with the Yobeat dollarClipse, but I’ve tried and tried again with those clipse. I don’t carry enough Hondos or Benjamins. Shit, I don’t even know what the cool people call one hundred dollars bills. So clipse are just right out.
Jheff JHamlett is suggesting I go with one of these Tanner Leather bifolds. That’s feeling much more my style, and you gotta admit that that natural leather has potential for long-term radness.
But, since we are now in the realm of artisan leather goods, shouldn’t I be keeping it close? Hitting up this Cap City Local? For real I could probably bike to homeboy’s tannery and get the goods. But I think the idea of having a wallet worth more than what I carry in it is hilarious. Honestly look at this mess:
I’ve got $23, a couple of debt-makers, a AAA card (I don’t even drive) and like 60% of a free slice of pizza at Ian’s. Given what I’m rolling with, I’m best off going with this:
Best summer wallet available. Maybe it’s time to make it a year round thingy.
Double-Up!
I watched Red State. Holy shit! Granted, I’m a touch of Kevin Smith fanboy, but it doesn’t matter. This movie is crazed. I’ve seen horror movies, even a few Asian ones, they’re creepy, but Red State, that was kind of a horrifying flick.
Blastly:
I like this:
Torontario
Wednesday, November 30th, 2011Day 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.