...because last night was pretty friggin' disgusting. First of all, Shannon is uncharacteristically sick right now, so the glue that holds our family together against the forces of utter unkemptness is off her game a little. As in bed-ridden. So, last night, after a 10 hour day at work, I come home and grab a beer. This beer was to die a horrible, warm, neglected, un-drank death an hour later. Right away, Chumby heads-out to the side patio for some "alone time," a.k.a. taking a crap. No big deal. I get up from the couch, get a TP mitt in order, and scoop up the rather stinky turd. Chumby announces to me, loudly, while pointing, where the poop is. Like you could miss this giant blob of an un-welcomemat outside the door. "Thank you, snootcher, I, uh *gak* see it." I flush it and resume my position on the couch and take another drink. "Daaaaad," cries Desi. Alaster evidently is not finished with his reign if fecal terror. Up, scoop, flush, wipe, couch, beer. Two minutes pass, then two more poops pass. Up to clean, wash hands, ask Snootch if he is, in fact, done. I remain standing, just in case. Convinced all is clear, I sit. But ha ha motherfucker! The poop-de-grace earns the 'Ster another wipe-down, before he comes back inside, for a bath. Ah, all is well, the air is beginning to clear, I deposit Chumby in the drawing bath and take another sip. I'm almost through the door when I realize he's shitting in the water! Ha ha woo woo, the funny farm, where life is poopy all the time ha ha hoo hoo. Shannon, is continuing to whoop-there-cough-is pretty harshly from the kitchen. Why? I think it's because I'm scrambling to extricate toys and drain bath water due to poop. But no, she's coughing/laughing because she's in the kitchen watching the cat B A R F. ...A lot. This is funny to her beacuse she knows she's too fucking sick to be even remotely expected to clean-up cat yorch, and knows that my hands aren't even cold from chumby-poop duty part 4. She coughs/laughs
some more as the offending feline goes on a puke rampage all over the kitchen. I've begun drawing another crap-free tub for Alaster after cleasing the area. At least it doesn't smell bad. Ha ha, uh,
not. From the bathroom I inform Desi that her pet has soiled our otherwise totally all-the-time pristine kitchen, and now's the time for her to come be a responsible pet-owner (much to her surpise -- and horror. "
...moi, daddy?"). To my surprise, then horror, she steps-up to clean-up the compacted cat food yorch-logs under the table. One heave and gak, two heave and gak, three H&G, floor! Yup, you guessed it, she fucking barfed too! All over the floor! Ha ha ha! Shannon now cough/laughs so hard I think
she's gonna yak next. Meanwhile, no kidding, Alaster damns another torpedo in bath #2 (numba twoo...get it?!!). I pause to mentally check that I haven't yet shit my pants myself. Did I mention that Shan sometimes wee-tiny lil bit wets her pants when she coughs too hard? "Oh yeah," quoth the yellow not-so kool-aid man! On to the kitchen! It's like my household was in the tail of some kinda Maximum Overdrive chain reaction elimination comet. I was afriad to sit down and relax after cleaning-up Desi's centrally located thrown-up homemade chicken soup, for fear of whatever could possibly be next. I think Shan actually jumped-in on the Desi mess while I finished de-catting a few items, cough/laughing all the while. Snootcher probably tried to keep the train rollin', but just didn't have it in him, poor guy. I washed my hands for the 19th time.
I finally got to the couch and finished a warm lonely beer. To my knowledge, we were finally free.
Oh my god, I am the raddest seat designer there is! Mike at LB Line-X is the man with the industrial needles yo, and he didn't even raise an eyebrow when I told him the color scheme.
Some seriously nice artwork. Says "watching the world die."
Part of the abandoned water treatment plant on my all-dirt route to work.
There's 6 of these huge cisterns with those rusty catwalks; a very Star Warsy industrial setting.
Check this thing out. Left side of the photo shows a sea-going rocket launching platform. This company (Sea Launch) is based on Terminal Island, between the LBC & 'Peedro. They sail it to the equator and launch satellites into geosyncronous orbit! This part of the pier is as close as I could get. Luckily, I know some of the Port of L.A. Motorcops (from work), so the Homeland Security Q&A sessions are short after I pull up, shoot 2 pics, and ride off again. 
Back when I worked on Sundays, I'd take-off early to do some urban adventure riding. The dealership had a rigid Sunday schedule; 10am to 4pm. I'd jam at 7 or 8am, explore around, cruise in at 10, pressure-wash me and the bike off, then walk in and go to work. Here's some pics of that fine era.
...like dicks we do this campout during the school week. ha ha. Carpenteria State Beach, weather was just great, kids had fun, and so did mom and dad. Pop-up performed admirably on its new tires. The right venerable Subaru continues to run well and astound. Shan didn't even say she was uncomfortable once.
brother Gary post-trophy last Sunday, post wiring advice.
when having the dragon temper your sword, aim flame away from face, no wonder he's a skele.
...an abandoned "Suicide Girls" T-Shirt design (will probably get this one in real life)
...total white girl by mistake of clueless chinese manufacturer
...pretty sure it says "Casualties of War, Cauldron of Shit (another possible purchase by me, just to have a shirt that says "Indie Rock!"
...mmm, didn't really have an english-speaking human spell-check this one, didja? ...mmm munk fist...
ditto for this shirt ...NO MERCY!
...I will do whatever it takes to get this shirt
...and when he created this t-shirt, he put white girls on it yo.
there is someone out there that would wear this; honestly. hoof; check it out then talk to it.
Shan got/animal-rescued a white bun-bun last week, the day before I bought the C20, thereby keeping our "1 animal = 1 vehicle" rule at our house intact. This one's for her, plus I just named it "Gangsta Bunny" jus now.
..and at your mama's house on Saturday night.
...So does sniffing your hands, you big-nosed WASP.
next to this box of garbage and flowers...
true dat
please direct your attention to the feet pressed against the window. This is another "gonna git it item
I would paint a colon (:) after the word "fish"
Every vehicle I own is legally mine, and is registered and insured at the moment; spent an hour at AAA this morning, TCB. It's weird, makes me feel like going out and getting rear-ended.
