Under Influence

You know, I have always had a hard time deciphering the difference between influential people and inspirational people. I guess it was only recently that I figured out inspirational people make you want to do something and the influential just make you the way you are; good or bad. So that has me thinking. Who is to blame for me? I’ll tell you who…

Linda Blair. I know what you are thinking but she has had a big influence on my life. This lady set a new standard for things that go bump in the night. I’ll never forget sleeping in a sleeping bag in the parents bedroom at age 12 because I was sure Reagan was hiding in my closet giving me that creepy grin. You know the grin.

So thanks, Linda. Because of you I will always jump to the conclusion that I am possessed if I hear strange noises at night. Even as a 31 year old.

Joe Strummer. It’s weird to realize your influences so much later in life. When Joe died of congested heart failure in 2002 I had been a Clash fan going on 12 years. I was saddened but like many other people I figured a rock star life was one that circles the drain anyway and it was only a matter of time. The other day when I was thinking about this post it really hit me that Joe set the standard for my musical taste and messages the artists bring to the table. Was he the greatest singer? Compared to many, no. Was he the greatest guitarist with the cleanest live performance? No way. But when you read the lyrics and see the raw artistic talent, it will make you involuntarily sit down. The Clash set te bar high for me and Joe’s death really affected me more than I thought.

Peter Benchley. I guess it would be easy to put the blame on Steven Spielberg but I am going right to the source. I saw the movie, Jaws when I was younger, and it’s true that after seeing that I was deathly afraid of the ocean, harbors, ponds, lakes, pools, bathtubs, toilets and anything else that held water, the life-force of great whites. But I feel that blaming Steve is like shooting the messenger. no, I think the mastermind of Jaws deserves a bit of the blame for my inability to tread water in a lake without visions of teeth and dorsal fins.

I read Peter Benchley’s book, Jaws, one summer in high school. It kind of hit me that this guy is the real reason that it’s never going to be safe to go back in the water. I held the same resentment for Peter that I held for my grandfather when he would make me walk down the center of the aisle because he was positive that I would poke out my eye on the hanging hooks. To this day I walk dead center in the aisle for fear of loosing an eye on a sock hook. But I have to let go and forgive them. Besides, they’re both dead and wouldn’t care anyway.

You know, I have been accused many times of being emotionally disconnected or cold when it comes to sad situations and even thought to have never shed a tear. But those who claim such a fact never asked me about Jim Henson. Then I may just ball like an eight year old girl.

I can’t under state how this guy with his socks, strings and foam shaped my childhood and gave me so many precious memories. Memories like renting Muppets Take Manhattan for the fifth time and watching it on the couch with my Dad. Spending the summer in Elk Grove, California with my then 19 year old Uncle as a young child and how he skipped a party to take me to see The Labyrinth. I even remember the countless summer days watching Sesame Street, never quite sure what was going on with Bert, Ernie and the Yellow Ducky but certain that Grover was the greatest character to ever bless the Public Broadcasting Station. But I’ll never forget on May 16, 1990 when my Dad told me Jim passed away and said in a shaky voice, “Jim Henson died today. He’s been your buddy since you were a baby.” I think many children of the 70’s and 80’s sat alone for a while that day.

I don’t think you can pull off a life like Jim Henson had without being destined to do so. I guess what really got to me was the thought that all the characters I grew up with passed with him. He really did put a soul into what ever he touched. Thanks Jim. Your influence shaped me to be a reflective adult. I hope when I have kids they can have memories like the ones you gave me.

See? I can’t even hear this song without tearing up.

So, that’s just a few of the influences I am under. Maybe they are just puzzle pieces to why I am like this? Who knows? I guess inside I’m just a possessed, punk rock, muppet shark.

February 19, 2009 8

Double Mint

Oh boy. I have so much to say and now I don’t know how to begin. So, I’ll just start. My awesome uncle is dating twins. I wouldn’t believe it if I had not gone on a “double-date” with them. And what did this date consist of? We all went out to eat and get our future read by a tarot card reader. I swear to God, Allah, Jesus, Buddha, George or any deity you choose. This happened.

If you have been reading VeggieMacabre for a while then you may be familiar with my favorite uncle, Uncle Mark. Never in my life have I known anyone who can become genuinely excited over a road map or a laser pointer. He grasps life with both hands and throws caution to the wind everyday of his life. His heart is three sizes larger than a normal person’s and when it comes time to march, his beat is his very own. What a beat it is!

But with all that known, it doesn’t lessen the hilarity of what Uncle Mark does or the positions he gets in. On a fateful day he was minding his own business in a Dunkin Donuts when two twin sisters spotted him and asked him out. I know, so incredibly random I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. Regardless, his cool points among his peers reached a new high.

So here they are. Do you like my sneaky picture? I had to cough over the “click” sound but to be honest, even if I didn’t, I don’t think they would have noticed. Or rather, I don’t think I would care.

Well, after memorable conversation and my 11 beers and shot to numb the night, it was time for the girls to get their fortunes read. At $25 bucks each my poor Uncle tossed out $50 to Mad’am Stratella (actual name) and they trotted off behind the curtain to find out the inevitable.

While we waited I had to ask my Uncle Mark if he was really serious about these two. I didn’t get the impression that they were using him but for life of me, I couldn’t understand their angle. Mark told me he was just having fun and it was a little flattering that they were fighting over who gets to be with him. I guess I could understand that. I mean hell, they were getting their fortunes read to see who would be the lucky one that gets to have a life of sausage sandwiches and shopping at Cabella’s.

Soon the twins came back to the table looking a little disappointed. The curiosity was bubbling over and Mark wasted no time in asking. Was the $50 bucks worth it? Would they hold the answers to life’s greatest unknowns? Was the meatloaf I ate really that day’s special?

No. They didn’t find out any of that. But what they did inquire about the fate of their sick cat and whether they should put it down or wait it out. I guess there are no tarrot cards for cats. For $50 they were left to decide for themselves. But not without some sound advice from Uncle Mark.

With total sincerity and in all seriousness he offered his services.

“If you want I can just drop it off in front of a Chinese restaurant?”

And with that, the night came to a dramatic end. (sigh….)

January 14, 2009 10

How A Guy Makes A Christmas Sweater

It’s that time of year again! Time to roll out the holly, deck the halls, drink the eggnog and buy your dad English Leather. But this year I am adding a new tradition. I am going to make my own Christmas sweater and attend at least one holiday ugly sweater party. Lucky for me I was invited to one and I don’t have to crash a complete stranger’s shindig.

So now is the question of how does a guy go about making a Christmas sweater, anyway? Well, I need a sweater. That’s the first step. TO VALUE VILLAGE!

There it is! The canvas for my Christmas expression! And it was only $6 so I can’t feel too bad if I butcher it with gaudy crap. It’s not like I went to the mall and picked up a Kashmir sweater. I just pray that no one died in it.

What you are about to see in the next few pictures was inspired by a lost bid on eBay and even as I write this I am still stewing over that loss. I take the most stupid shit personally sometimes. Anyway, I lost and now I am stealing the concept and doing it myself. I hope who ever bought that sweater online is happy they paid $210. Maybe it’ll give them a rash.

I am starting with the back of the sweater because the front is 3D. You know where I am going with this.

Yes. I went to Hancock Fabrics. Wanna fight about it? Ok, well I decided that on the back of the sweater I needed a reindeer’s ass. This was not on the said lost sweater. This is my invention. So you can see the antlers that I cut off a novelty headband and fabric to cut out the body from. I am the type of person that will always get the carpenter’s rule of thumb, “measure twice, cut once”, backwards. I just jumped in with a permanent marker and scissors and went to town.

Reindeer are males, right? It’s hard to imagine Donner and Blitzen as girls and if I am not mistaken, wasn’t Donner Rudolf’s father? Did I just make all that up? Oh well, he needs testicles so there will be no confusion. Christmas balls!

You can’t buy shit like this, folks! Seriously, where would you find this? Now for the front. This is where I have “borrowed” the idea from eBay. But that was sewn and I am gluing. I feel confident that the glue will hold because Billy May’s said it would. He has an outside voice.

Isn’t he cute? Well don’t get too attached because his head is coming off and I am gluing it to my sweater.

Oh, and there is Kootanee. We are best buddies now.

It’s kind of funny but Kootanee actually watches TV. About a second after I took the picture above a bear came on the television and Kootanee ran into the bathroom and it took me about a half an hour to get him to come out. Poor guy. I gave him the headless bodies.

Now that I safely decapped the snowmen it is now time for gluing. But first I had to measure the position they were to be in. This takes both precision and a degree of shamelessness. You’ll see why.

I have no shame. Who do I think I am? My Mom would be so disappointed in me. I apologize, I really do. Me and my naked feet.

As you can see I am going for the Madonna style with the carrot noses. They are not as big as I would like but they’ll do. Why should I complain, though? I have bigger issues like the fact am a 30 year old guy making a Christmas sweater.

I’m not going to lie to you, I am pretty proud of the way this turned out. Making crafts has never been my bag. I went on a date a long time ago to paint pottery and drink wine. It’s a quirky Atlanta thing. Anyway, I finished it, brought it home and it leaked. True, I didn’t make the bowl, but that was a sign that all things creative should not come from my kidneys. (points to forehead)

And it fits! That’s really all that matters anyway, right? Happy Holidays.

December 20, 2008 55

Found A Value In The Village

So, I have been gone for a while. So much has happened I don’t really no where to start. Actually, nothing exciting but between work, traveling and course study, there hasn’t been very much time for yacking on the blog. And I am sorry. BUT, I did manage to find some winning apparel that only you would appreciate. I found it at the Value Village.

A blog friend of mine made me aware of the infamous Value Village but I believed it only to be of myth. However, on a hunt to find the perfect tacky Christmas sweater for an upcoming party I drove by the sign and it really does exist! I made an illegal u-turn and only killed one person. It’s cool, she was old.

Value Village was everything I had imagined and more. Like any discount clothing stores, the presentation is not the important part. I find that the 3rd grade organization is both endearing and, well, easy for me. I hit my head a few years ago and ever since then I have been a fan of straight forward signage like “Pants” or “Shirts”. Don’t tell me name brands, just tell me what they are. Corn. Unicorn. Unicorn on the cob.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find a sweater worthy enough to rock the Christmas party. The tacky level must be at least a 10 out 10 on the “Nice sweater; Who shot the couch?” scale. But check out the loot I did find!

T-shirts! Oh I am a sucker for odd t-shirts and I found the mother load! Here is the first one. It’s a peanut. Like I have to explain…

Looking closer we see this particular peanut is from Spokane. I live about 25 miles from Spokane so I feel I should represent. Plus, the peanut has “nut” tattooed on both arms. If I ever get the balls to have a sleeve done, I will include “nut” somewhere in the mix.

I guess it’s pretty chick to exploit Jesus for comedic relief nowadays, and to me it gets pretty old. Even if you don’t have a religion, the guy wasn’t that bad. He cured people’s diseases, preached peace and tolerance and oh yeah, he was tortured to death for mankind’s salvation. The jokes on him fall a little short with me. UNLESS, it is done by the religious right themselves. Here we see Jesus Christ advertised like Coke. Really, this shirt makes no sense but it doesn’t have to. It’s Jesus.

I don’t know how I feel about wearing K. Kraut’s shirt but for $0.99, why not?

I don’t think you can find a shirt like this on purpose. You would probably have to go to a print shop and face the embarrassment of saying you want a shirt reading “it’s all good”. Luckily for me, there is Value Village.

I am a little nervous to wear this. My life is full of ironic events and I am pretty sure that if a die in a catostrophic way like a plane crash or explosion, it will be in a shirt like this. Moving on…

Holy Hell! A tribute to Dimebag Darrell, the late guitarist from Pantera! Who would ever part ways with such a shirt? Who ever they are, may they get a rash every time “Cowboys From Hell” is on the radio. Regardless, I own it and I am a little saddened that I already met Phil and Rex a few weeks ago and missed the opportunity to rub Darrell in their face. Kittymao knows what I am talking about.

I had to get this one. One of my best friends is named Vicki. There is no stronger gesture of affection that says you care like wearing your friends name around.

Yeah, I know it’s tacky but I appreciate the humor. I think I may wear this to work for, you know, the irony of it all. That’s a stretch.

Yes I bought a Garth Brooks shirt. And yes, I made small talk with the cashier and claimed that I own everyone of his albums. I even turned the bullshit nob up one notch by saying we went fishing ’93. I gave her some made up FYI stuff like he only drinks warm beer and smokes cloves. She was mesmerized.

It has a back too! The question is where would one wear this? I know I live in North Idaho and I could walk into a grocery and people would compliment me but I make statements. Perhaps I should wear this and no pants? It’s not like I am trying to make Garth Brooks fan friends. Look at this guy! Awkward…

Now here is my favorite shirt. It speaks volumes of what Idaho is to me.

Animal art shirt! I don’t think there are words to express my feeling when I found this. I think I blurted out a word that infused fuck, God, Oreo, dolphin, and bike. Regardless, I scared a lady in a wheelchair and she made a skid mark trying to clear the aisle. I love this shirt and tonight I wasted no time in donning it. Is it as cool as I think it is?

Oh yeah. That’s where it’s at.

December 4, 2008 27

Thanks For Thanksgiving

Things might get a little crazy between now and Thanksgiving so just in case I don’t get a chance to post then, I will post this now. This is what I am thankful for.

The state of Idaho. Because not many are thankful for it. It’s a handsome state when looked at from a map at least.
The movie The ‘Burbs. “I let go of the goddamn brownies…”
Finally being able (at 30) to grow a full beard.

Being comfortable with myself even though I look like a melvin. (Picture shown above.)
The men and women in uniform that keep this country safe and free.
Micro Brews with cool labels.
Empire Strikes Back. My first memory of the movies and we went the Thanksgiving weekend of 1982.
The Creepshow. That was the trailer before The Empire Strikes Back and to this day, I still am “creeped” out by that movie. God bless it.
REI
My place in the mountains. Especially my work desk view.

Oh hell, I’ll just say it. Cheese.
The New York Times. It’s a Sunday must.
Kids with odd first names like “Lake” or “Apple” or “Valley”. It makes me feel better about my initials “WEW”. Woooooo!
Home Improvement 1991-1994
XM/Sirus radio. The drive from GA to ID would have sucked real bad without that.
My job
X-Entertainment. No other place can one go to see their childhood archived.
My rock star shoes. They are on their last legs. So to speak.

Triscuits. Both reduced fat and Olive oil and Rosemary.
Maybe the one guy who can regain international trust, racial healing, national pride and all that is great with America will be the President. (don’t Fuck Up!)
The F-14 Tomcat. Even though it is retired.
Everyone on my blog role. I love sharing memories with them and I love how they share them with me. I imagine that we are all camping and exchanging tales of bike accidents and office blunders as we chortle our way to slumber. I have a very special place in my heart for each and every one on the Veggiemacabre blogroll.
All my ex girlfriends. I know that sounds odd but it is true. Each person has left an indelible print on who I am today. Even though most want me dead, they made me better. And for that I am thankful.
Little kids high on Juicy-Juice and cookies. (2:07…..it’s worth the wait. “ooooo!”) The little guy is breaking a sweat!

La Sportiva running shoes
My gift of gab
My parents. As the late, great actor John Candy’s character, Dell in Planes Trains and Automobiles said, “Love. That’s not a big enough word.”
Being in better shape at 30 than I was at 21. Or even 18. That is important to me.
Being able to put down the bottle and walk away. Always had a tough time with that. Especially last year.
Fitness Macabre is still in the works and the sponsors are letting me run with in after the 1st of the year. I don’t know if I am thankful for that yet but I’ll throw it up here.
The freedom to move around. Last year I thought 92 degrees was a cooler day and today I think 42 degrees is a warmer day. I love experiencing that broad shift of environments.
The Food Network. Especially Good Eats and 30 Minute Meals.
My close friends. The ones who put up with my snoring, know that when we eat out I may order in a foreign accent, will pontificate at random and tell long stories and often lose the point half way through. Thanks for taking it all in stride.
That my friend found the love of his life and married her. I wish I could have been there but this year I needed some serious “head’ time. I will always regret that.
Great White Sharks are making a comeback from being endangered.
And above all else, good health

So that is my 2008 list of thanks. I wish everyone a safe and happy Thanksgiving. Try to reflect and let the people who mean the most know how important they are to you. You never know when you may get another chance. Think of those less fortunate and if you can, share. Try to keep an open mind and forgive those who you don’t get along with. At least for Thanksgiving. Letting go and loving is so much easier than holding on and hating.

So, thanks.

November 16, 2008 29

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