The Hobo Cycle of Sleep

I just read an interesting article about how to wake up without feeling like crap. The basic method is to use two alarms - the first one set at the earliest you'd like to wake up, with the alarm being something soft, like a light tone, or perhaps music. The second alarm should be a regular buzzer set at the latest you want to wake up. This is so you're not actually late if the first one doesn't do the trick for you.

One of the other methods mentioned in the article was a system called the "Wolf Cycle". Rather than do something sane like, i don't know, buying an alarm clock that stabs you in the face, this guy decided that he was going to mimic the behaviour of wolves to regulate his sleeping patterns. This mostly consisted of waking up every fifteen minutes, turning around in a little circle on all fours, and then going back to sleep. For another fifteen minutes. I think that if I tried this method for any length of time, my girlfriend would quickly turn it into the facial stabbing method. Just a hunch.

While these are interesting and possibly effective, I cleave steadfastly to my own methodology. You should try it! The first thing you'll need is some kind of paper bag. A decent hobo is never without several kinds of paper bags in varying degrees of cleanliness. You'll also need something vaguely alcoholic. Aquanet cut with rubbing alcohol is my favorite - cleans out the system something fierce and also burns all the hair out of your nostrils. Put the alcohol in the bag and consume most of it over the course of several hours. Ignore anything large, bat-shaped, and plaid, as it's most likely not really there. Wake up several times over the course of the night screaming about baked beans, or, alternatively, Richard Nixon. You'll wake up feeling like a tiny, tiny baby. Granted, a baby with an axe stuck in his head (and possibly some sort of vestigial limb), but still. It works for me!

New Zealand in Dire Peril!

Attention, dear readers! It has come to our attention that a sex-crazed pest from Korea is hell-bent on wreaking havoc in New Zealand! It's a little thing called a Sea Squirt, it's been transported to New Zealand from Korea, and now it's threatening the kiwi shellfish supply. They're spreading quickly due to their spawning rate of once every 24 hours.

Biosecurity New Zealand is working feverishly with Canadian researchers who have been battling the same problem for seven years. Maybe they should have gone to the Sea Squirt Genome Jamboree...Needless to say, if you should come across some way of eradicating this pesky sea critter, please contact New Zealand. And Canada. They'll probably give you a medal or something.

In other news, I can't believe I'm writing about Sea Squirts at 11:30 on a Friday night. Those Sea Squirts get all the action...

I Have Been Visited by The Spoon Ninja

There's a spoon on my desk and I have no idea how it got there.

Twenty Stupendously Interesting Things About Gasoline Hobo

I've decided that I've been a tagee for too long. It's time that I became a tagger. As such, I am going to write a list of twenty things about me, and I am going to tag two additional people who will then be forced (via horrible, horrible peer pressure and a quadruple dog dare) to do the same. There are no rules about what 20 things you can include, I simply ask that they be sort of interesting. ;)

1) My first real memory was of losing my sock monkey down the crack between my bed and the wall. It was traumatic, and may explain my current deep distrust of monkeys.

2) I have never broken a bone in my life.

3) I almost died twice when I was a kid, both times due to asthma attacks brought on by dehydration and flu. It sucks to be involuntarily hallucinating, and then suddenly be unable to breathe. Total buzzkill, man.

4) I used to have long hair and wear leather knee-high moccasins. And sometimes vests and lots of necklaces. I was also fairly cranky at the time, if I remember correctly. I call that time my "Angry Hippie Phase".

5) I once had a non-erupted molar moved from the middle of the roof of my mouth. While they had me knocked out to remove my wisdom teeth, the surgeon cut a hole in the roof of my mouth, cemented a bracket to the tooth, and then attached a gold chain to the bracket. Every time I visited the orthodontist for several months thereafter, they'd tighten the chain and pull the tooth a little closer to being in line. It worked perfectly, but it wasn't the most comfortable thing I've ever experienced.

6) I use a fountain pen when I write.

7) 8 years ago, I created an entirely new alphabet for a story I was working on. I still remember how to write in it.

8) One of my biggest pet peeves is people chewing with their mouths open.

9) I once crashed a motorcycle. During a motorcycle safety course.

10) My daily driver is a black 2005.5 Audi A4 with Quattro and a six speed manual transmission, but my dream car is a 1957 Porsche 356 Speedster. It's not fast, but the lines of the car are just perfect.

11) I love cookies with an unholy passion.

12) My power animal is a fruitbat.

13) I used to collect quarters minted in 1966. I have no idea why.

14) I went to a bar for the first time this year. I'm 30.

15) I used a bidet in Japan and kinda liked it. It was fancy.

16) I can't live anywhere that doesn't have trees. I don't even care what kind, there just have to be trees.

17) The formative years of my life where spent on a nursery. There was a river to the south, a restaurant to the east, a car dealership to the west, and a pretty busy highway to the north. My parents were also pretty busy running the nursery. This probably accounts for my overactive imagination, as I sort of had to keep myself entertained.

18) My father managed to dye his entire body blue while he was in college. By accident.

19) My dog set her ass on fire a few years ago. She was lying down in front of a wall heater when smoke was detected. The frantic patting down of her butt was met with a look of sheer, oblivious joy.

20) I once cohabitated with 2 women, 5 cats, 1 dog, 1 squirrel, 1 parakeet, 1 guinea pig and 22 rabbits. All inside. I am allergic to cats, dogs, squirrels and rabbits. I am currently thankful for two things. First, my only pet at the moment is a dog. Second, I am not allergic to women.

I'm now going to tag Space Nakji and San Nakji. HA HA.

A Brief Excerpt

Something pretty crappy happened today, so I'm coping by sharing a bit of something with you folks. Some of you may know that I've been working on a novel for a few years now, and I've decided to post a bit of it for you. Enjoy.

But don't steal. Stealing leads to killing, and I'd rather not take the time to hunt you down and stuff a pitchfork up your butt. K, thanks.

-----

Tiny claws tore miniscule furrows in the flesh of Carbo Montrier's leg as he lay tangled in the covers of his bed. He plucked the kitten off of his leg, deposited it on the floor, and flopped over so the bloody wound was against the sheets. The sheets were criss-crossed with a delicate hash of dried blood streaks.

The kittens were the result of Carbo's last case, where he'd located a missing miniature bonsai tree. After hours of delicate and difficult sleuthing, he'd discovered that the tree was inside the neighbor's 400 pound cat, who'd inadvertently sat on it. Although it did nothing to further his already dubious reputation, he appreciated that he could now claim to have rescued a tree from up a cat.

Through a bizarre chain of stupid events, Carbo ended up with a litter of six genetically modified kittens, each of which would eventually tip the scales at between 100 and 120 kilos. At the moment, they were about the size of his head, and viciously attacked anything that moved.

The kitten jumped back on the bed and was staring intently at Carbo's big toe. When it twitched, the kitten bit it. Carbo exploded out of bed, a howling, five foot tall male of african/samoan extraction, wrapped in blood stained sheets, who promptly pitched headfirst off the bed at a steep angle and swift velocity.

The kitten seemed to wince from its perch on the bed, but then thought better of it, hopped primly off the bed and sauntered out the door, looking for food or new prey.

-----

Curses! Tagged Again!

Once again, I have been tagged by Space Nakji. As such, I have to list some stuff that makes me cry. Fortunately, I am hobo enough to be able to express myself on an emotional level.

TV shows that have made me cry:

Good lord, TV? I haven't watched TV since Happy Days was on. Ok, that's a lie, but I really don't watch all that much TV these days. Here's all I can think of:

General Hospital: When Tony finds out that he has to get a brain transplant for the seventh time. I cried because the a) the writers should have the ancient Viking Blood Eagle ritual performed on them because they keep using the same stupid plot device over and over again, and b) why the fuck am I watching this in the first place?

Matlock: Remember when Grizzly Adams killed Sheriff Andy with a coonskin cap while Opie stood over Aunt Bea's slowly cooling, bullet-riddled body? That was pretty rough.

The A-Team: Mr. T. Such a tragic figure.

Charles in Charge: Not exactly crying. More sort of blood squirting out of my eye sockets.

The Groovy Ghoulies: Makes me cry because it's not available on DVD.

Ok, that's all I feel like doing with TV Shows.

Movies:

Braveheart: When his wife gets killed. I was SURE he was going to be able to save her! Sob city.

Wings of Desire: When the angel makes his sacrifice.

Dead Man: I teared up a little when william blake was drifting off in the canoe

Titanic: Yeah, I admit it.

Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon: Chow Yun Fat on the mountain at the end.

The Fisher King: "I love new york in june, how about you?" robin williams actually made me cry. the sense of loss in this film is just really, really well done. SO GOOD.

It's a Wonderful Life: Duh.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: The end (don't want to ruin it)

Amadeus: Mozart's funeral just kills me every time. This is actually one of my favorite movies.

Glory: The final scene. The music and cinematography is just right.

Comics:

Um...I cried with happiness when I got The Tick #1 comic (he's nigh invulnerable, his Crime Finder is a ViewMaster, and he threatens to suck blood...through a straw! Also, his battle cry is SPOON. How cool is that?), and I cried with sadness when I could not locate my Alf #1 comic. But I found it again, so it's ok. Thanks for asking.

The Gift of Mulch

It's been a pretty good day, if you must know. I exchanged a series of hilarious emails with The Girl, wherein we used the Google Translator (me) and BabelFish (her) to send each other increasingly bizarre love notes in what I like to call "Machine French" (which brings to mind nightmare visions of killer robot mimes, but whatever). One of the more innocent examples: "il ne veut pas faire pipi dans son raccoon...", which is translated by BabelFish as "it does not want to make wee in its raccoon..." And no, I'm not going to explain what that might mean.

I've also been catching up on my blog reading, including the extremely cool FluidPudding, who not only provided a recipe for PIG CANDY, but also managed to work in a reference to Frank Zappa, which earns her my undying respect. Today's post has Miz Pudding ruminating on what to get her husband for their 4th anniversary, and one of her readers mentions that she got her husband mulch. MULCH. I don't believe that I've EVER HEARD of a more completely awesome gift in my life. In fact, I like it so much that I'm going to give "The Gift of Mulch" to various friends and relations this holiday season.



Strangely enough, there are only two things that I've won in my entire life. The first thing is phones. Between 6th and 9th grade, I won a grand total of 4 telephones. They all sucked. The only other thing I've won is mulch. I am not making that up. My parents took me to a Nursery Show when I was a teenager, and I spun a wheel at the Kellogg booth, and won two bags of mulch.

And now if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with MulchLand.

In Which Our Hero Discovers That The Velvet Monkey is Not What it Seems

[Space Nakji] don't you hate when someone takes a picture of you and you only realize days after you've been looking at it in iPhoto that there's a weird art collage of penises RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR HEAD and you didn't even realize it?

[Gasoline Hobo] HAHAHAHAHAHAHA that happens to me all the time. i'll be looking at my pics and i'll be all like "GODDAMN IT!! FUCKING PENISES AGAIN!"

Peddling Zoroastrian Swatters Since 738

I have a huge bug up my butt. (Space Nakji, do NOT click that link. I'm warning you.) I feel a powerful urge to totally and completely redesign this site, including getting the fuck off of blogger. Mostly this means that I will be ripping off dooce.com, but still. This thing is getting stale.

I recently received certification as a Certified Usability Analyst, and I've always enjoyed graphic design and tinkering with code, so I think it's time I got off my ass and made something a little nicer than what you're looking at now. We're talking changing mastheads, categories for posts, photo galleries, and maybe even a plugin that lets you remotely shoot Brian Peppers with a tranquilizer dart.



In other news (it's two for one day!), a researcher at Cornell named Daniel Riskin recently discovered that vampire bats are excellent runners. How did he determine this? He put them on treadmills, of course. Not just vampire bats, though - he gave several flavors of bats equal time on the treadmill... sometimes with sort of sad results:

The least effective of them "just smack their wings against the ground and freak out," never successfully taking a step, he says.

Other species can shuffle. "The typical bat can get from A to B, but it looks really clumsy while it does it," Riskin says.

In contrast, he ranks the ground-traversing skills of vampire bats as "off-the-scale good." The 8-centimeter-long animals move nimbly in any direction, easily making the transition from ground to air movement. They can jump into flight from a standing start in some 30 milliseconds. "

Moral of the story? Don't fuck with vampire bats.

43 Ways to Die, 9 of Which Involve Exploding Birds

Today finds me a bit at loose ends creatively. It also finds me with an insatiable, unholy lust for cupcakes, but we will not speak of that. Fortunately, this problem is one of too many options rather than not enough.

I have the opportunity to do more "professional" writing for two highly regarded, and very public sites. This writing will allow me to make jokes (not about penises, though), and will force me to write something interesting and funny every day. I'd done it for about a year before the whole divorce fiasco, and am only now getting back to the point where I'm ready to start it back up again.

I've also been toying with the idea of picking up my pens and drawing again, and using this space as an artistic outlet for my long defunct "Luke the Slug" cartoon. This was a panel-based strip and revolves around the hilarious concept of a practically immobile mollusk cracking wise about silly things. Also, I tend to put him in a lot of disguises for some reason. Luke! Master of Three Disguises!

I could also just continue to fill this thing up with odd musings and strange things that I encounter, as it seems to amuse all three of you out there. I will continue to ponder.

p.s.: i'm not always navel-gazing, by the way. i sometimes contemplate deeper things, like how crazy can someone be about spoons, and why does God hate figs?

Creepy plants. WITH EYES.

While this didn't actually creep me out (I thought it was pretty cool, actually), I can certainly see how this could be creepy. You know, because they LOOK. With their EYES. The stills below are taken from a photorealistic computer animation that you can find here.

"Da earth waz barren..."

Let me just preface this little piece by saying that I have nothing against religion. Like anything, it can be used for good or evil. My main problem with this story has nothing to do religion and everything to do with how stupid people are.

Ready? Someone has translated the Bible into a new language. It took them over four weeks. This is not the problem. The problem is that the language is SMS-Speak. You know, that weird pidgin vocabulary that allows people with phones to pound out such erudite exchanges as "u no u luv scott evry1 nos it", "stfu stacy at lst i hv boobs".

Because I love my readers so much, I decided to download the software from the SMSBible site. I do not recommend this, as the site sucks so badly that I think crapped out a cherub. I did not download the software out of any intent to send SMS Bible verses to anyone (at a cost of .25 per verse, payable to the good folks at SMSBible). Rather, I was savagely curious to see if any of the verses used "OMG". Mostly because I think that would be hilarious.


fig. 1: SEE! The hideous interface!

Unfortunately, I failed in my mission. There are only two ways to send someone a message using the software. The first method involves actually plugging your phone into the computer and praying that the software will find it. I do not have a cable for my phone. The other method is via the internet, and requires you to actually CALL the Bible Society to set up an account. The Bible Society is in Australia, and I don't think my employer would appreciate that kind of a long distance phone call. Even if it is for a good cause. Alas, all I can do is provide you with a few sample verses. These are actual examples! I swiped them from this story.

"In da Bginnin God cre8d da heavens & da earth. Da earth waz barren, wit no 4m of life; it waz unda a roaring ocean cuvred wit dRkness. (Genesis, chapter 1, verses 1-2).

God luvd da ppl of dis wrld so much dat he gave his only Son, so dat evry1 who has faith in him will have eternal life & neva really die. (John, chapter 3, verse 16).

U, Lord, r my shepherd. I will neva be in need. U let me rest in fields of green grass. U lead me 2 streams of peaceful water. (Psalm 23, verses 1-2).

Wrk hard at wateva u do. U will soon go 2 da wrld of da dead, where no 1 wrks or thinks or reasons or knws NEting. (Ecclesiastes, chapter nine, verse 10).

Respect ur father & ur mother, & u will live a long time in da l& I am givin u. (Exodus, chapter 20, verse 12)."

Blogger can suck it.

And by blogger, I mean blogger.com, not any particular blogger. The question of WHY blogger can suck it is a simple one to answer, as it mainly involves the fact that it ate a really long post of mine. There were pictures. There was laughter and joy and really exciting things. It took me over an hour to write. Then I hit the big friendly "publish post" button, and I got a lovely, FANTASTIC message saying that blogger was down for prescheduled maintenance and to try back later.

Prescheduled maintenance, eh? They seemed to imply that I should have known about this event, and should have planned my posting around it. Yet I received no email to this effect. I was not alerted to the fact that this event was pending when I logged in to my blogger account. Apparently I'm required to visit their corporate offices and personally SUCK THE INFORMATION OUT OF THE SKULL OF A PROGRAMMER, much like the "brain sucking bug" from Starship Troopers:



In fact, I am reminded of a particular scene from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

Prosser: The plans were on display.
Arthur: I eventually had to go down to the cellar...
Prosser: That's the display department.
Arthur: ... with a torch.
Prosser: Ah, the lights had probably gone.
Arthur: So had the stairs.
Prosser: But you found the notice, didn't you?
Arthur: Yes. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard.’