E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Friday, May 31, 2002 This is a good season to find awesome stuff in the trash. Especially around college towns because all the college kids are moving out and throwing stuff away. Just yesterday I found a telescope. It looks like a pretty good one, and it’s just missing the tripod and a few set screws and things. It’s sweet because that was like the LAST thing I needed for my pirate ship. I was up on my balcony dancing around with my new telescope when I invited my roommate to join in my glee and I promised I would share my telescope with him. He, rather sternly, told me that I would get pinkeye from using a telescope that I found in the trash. I think that telling somebody that they are going to get pinkeye from using an old junk telescope is probably THE funniest thing that somebody could say in that situation. So I laughed at him and told him he was a square and shit. But after he left I started thinking about it, and I really don’t want to get pinkeye. Now I only look through my telescope when my roommate is not around and I wear safety goggles. Brian 6:53 PM Saturday, May 18, 2002 Both the good thing and the bad thing about the apartment complex where I live is that you never have to go far for excitement. If it’s not the local cops hassling some Eastern European immigrant in the parking lot (damn the heat!!) it’s some hardnosed maintenance man hacking baby squirrels out of the walls with Sawz-alls and dropping them on the sidewalk to die. Okay, well, both of these are bad things. Maybe I should just say that there are lots of things that happen at my apartment complex that make me run to the highest window and watch. So this Friday (tonight) after dark I was out in the parking lot shopping the free store (dumpster) and I noticed this alcoholic guy who lives in the basement building across from me. He was skulking in the shadows with a drink in his hand and watching this party on the second floor above his unit through the window. But it’s not that skulking is uncommon at my apartment complex. In fact, skulking is very common. This apartment complex is, like, THE number one venue for skulking. We’ve featured the inspired skulking stylings of skulking all-stars like “Creepy guy who sleeps in his car while it’s running early in the morning,” and “Mumbling curses about his mother under his breath and looking in people’s windows.” However, this guy who lives in the basement unit across from me isn’t much of a skulker. I met him when my car broke down on the way to a job interview and I had to haul it back to the apartment parking lot behind a tow truck. The guy took the opportunity to introduce himself as I poked around in the engine with a paperclip and a toothbrush. He had this extra bus schedule that he generously said I could have - I see him walking all over town and waiting at the bus stops. It was like he was passing the pedestrian torch and I was touched. He told me that his wife and daughter won’t have anything to do with him and they still live in his house and he’s giving them time to work things out and in the meantime he’s living in this crappy basement apartment. He told me that he used to be an electric engineer. A really nice guy. So I see this guy with a drink in his hand and he starts walking up to the apartment above him where they are having this loud party and he has to use the hand without the drink in it to steady himself on the rail and he finally makes it to the top of the stairs and pounds on the door. So now I’m skulking in the shadows and watching because I’m thinking that this situation pretty much guarantees a violent altercation. But I see this guy talk to the partiers and then, against all probability, he calmly turns and starts down the stairs and the partiers turn down their stereo and everything is resolved peacefully. So I guess that neither party needed a violent altercation. I guess that each side didn’t have to have some violent conflict to take their minds off their life – they just wanted to courteously resolve the conflict and get back to what they have in their own lives. So here I am in the shadows waiting to see a fight. I’m fucking pathetic. Brian 2:31 AM Thursday, May 16, 2002 I just ate a shitload of raw chicken. How did it happen, you ask? It all went down like this: You know those plastic wrapped single serving “Chicken Kiev” things you find in your grocer’s freezer display, like back by the frozen liver pops and stuff like that? . . . I was shopping and felt like I was a due a really CLASSY lunch and . . . Well, I guess that’s pretty much how the whole thing went down. I bought one of those things in the store and warmed it up in my toaster oven and started mawing on it and I was like 7/8 of the way done when I finally realized that it was all raw. I don’t expect to find raw chicken in that part of the freezer case. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now. I blame it on the chickens. Why can’t they poop somewhere else than on their own meat? I mean, really. I’ve been spending the last few minutes of my life rushing around my apartment hiding all my embarrassing stuff so people won’t see it when they come to get my dead body. It’s like dying of a heart attack while you are masturbating (and I have a paramedic friend who says that it happens ALL THE TIME) – when they found you like that it would be embarrassing. You’d be dead and everything, but still, don’t you think that would be embarrassing? All I’m saying is that if you are masturbating and you suddenly don’t feel so well I think that you should really quickly pull up your pants and start working on a crossword puzzle or something so that if you are having a heart attack and you die the “cause of death” entry on your autopsy will read “Crossword Puzzle” instead of “Self-Gratification.” Oh! Here’s a good idea: Put a half-finished crossword puzzle by wherever you masturbate so that all you have to do if you start having a heart attack is to assume a casual crossword-type position before you die. So anyway, with the amount of raw chicken I ate I’m pretty sure it’s curtains for me. If you are a young single good looking female cat then you might want to start cozying up to Mr. Kitty because he is named the primary beneficiary of my life insurance. However, I don’t know how interested he is in female cats anymore, ever since his operation I haven’t seen his prickly cat penis sticking out and I used to see it whenever I’d hold him on his back for any amount of time. Besides, if I know Mr. Kitty he’ll blow all the insurance proceeds on a Hover-round™ which is an electric wheelchair/scooter type thing that we saw an TV ad for earlier today. The Hover-round™ is totally sweet! The commercial opened with these two elderly woman sitting in their Hover-round™ scooters on top of this peak in the Grand Canyon or something and surveying the rough terrain like their loyal Hover-rounds™ had carried them to the top of Pike’s Peak or something. Then the commercial showed this determined old dude with one of those old dude hats, he was using his Hover-round™ to tow a van filled with able-bodied teens down the street. I guess the van had run out of gas and the old man and his trusty Hover-round™ came to the rescue. Then they show this elderly woman who is gently and confidently negotiating around priceless 16th century furniture in her home. Then (and this was the best part) the commercial cuts to another old guy wearing a beret, there’s all these attack dogs chasing him across a rough grassy field and he had his head all hunched down to reduce wind resistance and he was totally outdistancing the vicious hounds in his Hover-round™! Mr. Kitty and I agreed that this was the BEST COMMERCIAL EVER!! Brian 9:41 PM Wednesday, May 15, 2002 I’ve become alarmed lately at the TERRIBLE DEPENDENCY I’ve developed on those raspberry jelly filled donuts they sell at gas stations and grocery stores. I like the ones best with the powdery sugar on top, but I’ll go for the ones with frosting if that’s all that’s around. I mean, I’d rob a liquor store if I had to for those delicious donuts. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I thought for a while that I was getting the diabetes. Somebody told me that when you have the diabetes it makes your urine taste sweet. My roommate has eaten like half the pickle chips in that jar in the refrigerator and he hasn’t said anything about them tasting unusually sweet so now I still don’t know. I thought for a while too that maybe I needed a lot of sugary foods because I was turning into a humming bird. I tested my hypothesis by running in place and inserting my long proboscis into the sweet-jelly-nectar-filled core of a donut but, in contrast to the delicate beauty of a hovering hummingbird drinking nectar, my display was more than a little disturbing and possibly illegal if I was to do it in public. Brian 5:10 PM Saturday, May 11, 2002 Well, I’m finally done with law school and so had some time to work a bit at my organic garden plot. While I was there I was digging away and crushing root grubs to death with an old rusty pair of pliers and all of a sudden I felt this cold chill. I looked up and I saw this filthy Robin watching me out of the corner of his eye! I knew exactly what he was after, he was waiting for me to leave so he could dash in and eat some of the worms that I had uncovered. So I was like, “These are my worms! Go down to the community center and rent your own organic plot if you want some worms you filthy bastard!!” It was kind of a mean thing to say, because all the plots are already rented for the summer and it would have been a wasted call for the robin. It was a mean thing for me to say, but see, I have this problem with birds because when I was a little kid I came home with a feather that I had found and my parents had started freaking out that I was a “filthy lice hazard!” and had made me stand naked in the front yard while they poured vinegar over my head and it got into my eyes and, well . . . . But so anyway, here I was with this filthy worm mooching bird watching me. At first I started trying to think up ways to kill him. But the more I thought about it the more I began thinking that I could turn this situation to my advantage. Here is the deal that I worked out with the bird: I would throw him the worms I found in exchange for animal favor points. A normal sized worm is one point, and a moderately sized night-crawler is three points, but the really fucking big night-crawlers don’t count for any points because he doesn’t eat them for some reason. The deal is that I can exchange my animal favor points for certain animal favors according to the following conversion chart: Warning me when my enemies are approaching: 2 points Pooping on my enemies: 4 points Pecking my enemies: 10 points per peck Pecking an eye out on one on my enemies: 20 points Changing Mr. Kitty’s litter box: 10 points Spying on my enemies: 5 points per day Giving my enemies creepy looks: 1 point per fifteen minutes of creepy looks Getting help if I fall down a well: 5 points Pushing my enemies down wells: 10 points Granting wishes: 25 points per wish (note: the cost of granting wishes was a tough spot in our negotiations. The robin insisted that granting wishes had to be the most expensive animal favor because, for example, if pecking both my enemy’s eyes out cost 30 animal favor points then I could just “wish” that the robin pecked both my enemy’s eyes out for the 25 point cost of granting a wish and save 5 animal favor points. The robin argued that the cost of granting a wish would form a de facto ceiling on animal favor costs. I argued that 25 points was too expensive and would make any small wishes that I wanted granted cost prohibitive and this reduced the value of the agreement disproportionately. We tinkered with a compromise “wish cost table” addendum to the contract for a while but in the end I conceded on this point in exchange for the liquidated damages clause I wanted.) Cooking a sizzle steak sandwich for me: 7 points Poisoning my enemy’s sizzle steak sandwich: 12 points Pretending that HE was driving if I was pulled over and drunk: 20 points Giving me his “clean” white urates for me to substitute as my own at a drug test: 15points I found and fed like 13 points of worms today to that robin and so now I’m just sitting back with a tallboy of Miller Light and maxing and relaxing with my animal favor conversion chart. Just so you know, all you people that made fun of my pants that day in highschool, when a bird poops on you tomorrow or pushes you down a well. . . vengeance is mine!!!!! Brian 4:18 AM

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House of Noh!

Friday, May 31, 2002

This is a good season to find awesome stuff in the trash. Especially around college towns because all the college kids are moving out and throwing stuff away. Just yesterday I found a telescope. It looks like a pretty good one, and it’s just missing the tripod and a few set screws and things. It’s sweet because that was like the LAST thing I needed for my pirate ship. I was up on my balcony dancing around with my new telescope when I invited my roommate to join in my glee and I promised I would share my telescope with him. He, rather sternly, told me that I would get pinkeye from using a telescope that I found in the trash. I think that telling somebody that they are going to get pinkeye from using an old junk telescope is probably THE funniest thing that somebody could say in that situation. So I laughed at him and told him he was a square and shit. But after he left I started thinking about it, and I really don’t want to get pinkeye. Now I only look through my telescope when my roommate is not around and I wear safety goggles.

Brian 6:53 PM

Saturday, May 18, 2002

Both the good thing and the bad thing about the apartment complex where I live is that you never have to go far for excitement. If it’s not the local cops hassling some Eastern European immigrant in the parking lot (damn the heat!!) it’s some hardnosed maintenance man hacking baby squirrels out of the walls with Sawz-alls and dropping them on the sidewalk to die. Okay, well, both of these are bad things. Maybe I should just say that there are lots of things that happen at my apartment complex that make me run to the highest window and watch. So this Friday (tonight) after dark I was out in the parking lot shopping the free store (dumpster) and I noticed this alcoholic guy who lives in the basement building across from me. He was skulking in the shadows with a drink in his hand and watching this party on the second floor above his unit through the window. But it’s not that skulking is uncommon at my apartment complex. In fact, skulking is very common. This apartment complex is, like, THE number one venue for skulking. We’ve featured the inspired skulking stylings of skulking all-stars like “Creepy guy who sleeps in his car while it’s running early in the morning,” and “Mumbling curses about his mother under his breath and looking in people’s windows.” However, this guy who lives in the basement unit across from me isn’t much of a skulker. I met him when my car broke down on the way to a job interview and I had to haul it back to the apartment parking lot behind a tow truck. The guy took the opportunity to introduce himself as I poked around in the engine with a paperclip and a toothbrush. He had this extra bus schedule that he generously said I could have - I see him walking all over town and waiting at the bus stops. It was like he was passing the pedestrian torch and I was touched. He told me that his wife and daughter won’t have anything to do with him and they still live in his house and he’s giving them time to work things out and in the meantime he’s living in this crappy basement apartment. He told me that he used to be an electric engineer. A really nice guy. So I see this guy with a drink in his hand and he starts walking up to the apartment above him where they are having this loud party and he has to use the hand without the drink in it to steady himself on the rail and he finally makes it to the top of the stairs and pounds on the door. So now I’m skulking in the shadows and watching because I’m thinking that this situation pretty much guarantees a violent altercation. But I see this guy talk to the partiers and then, against all probability, he calmly turns and starts down the stairs and the partiers turn down their stereo and everything is resolved peacefully. So I guess that neither party needed a violent altercation. I guess that each side didn’t have to have some violent conflict to take their minds off their life – they just wanted to courteously resolve the conflict and get back to what they have in their own lives. So here I am in the shadows waiting to see a fight. I’m fucking pathetic.

Brian 2:31 AM

Thursday, May 16, 2002

I just ate a shitload of raw chicken. How did it happen, you ask? It all went down like this: You know those plastic wrapped single serving “Chicken Kiev” things you find in your grocer’s freezer display, like back by the frozen liver pops and stuff like that? . . . I was shopping and felt like I was a due a really CLASSY lunch and . . . Well, I guess that’s pretty much how the whole thing went down. I bought one of those things in the store and warmed it up in my toaster oven and started mawing on it and I was like 7/8 of the way done when I finally realized that it was all raw. I don’t expect to find raw chicken in that part of the freezer case. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now. I blame it on the chickens. Why can’t they poop somewhere else than on their own meat? I mean, really. I’ve been spending the last few minutes of my life rushing around my apartment hiding all my embarrassing stuff so people won’t see it when they come to get my dead body. It’s like dying of a heart attack while you are masturbating (and I have a paramedic friend who says that it happens ALL THE TIME) – when they found you like that it would be embarrassing. You’d be dead and everything, but still, don’t you think that would be embarrassing? All I’m saying is that if you are masturbating and you suddenly don’t feel so well I think that you should really quickly pull up your pants and start working on a crossword puzzle or something so that if you are having a heart attack and you die the “cause of death” entry on your autopsy will read “Crossword Puzzle” instead of “Self-Gratification.” Oh! Here’s a good idea: Put a half-finished crossword puzzle by wherever you masturbate so that all you have to do if you start having a heart attack is to assume a casual crossword-type position before you die. So anyway, with the amount of raw chicken I ate I’m pretty sure it’s curtains for me. If you are a young single good looking female cat then you might want to start cozying up to Mr. Kitty because he is named the primary beneficiary of my life insurance. However, I don’t know how interested he is in female cats anymore, ever since his operation I haven’t seen his prickly cat penis sticking out and I used to see it whenever I’d hold him on his back for any amount of time. Besides, if I know Mr. Kitty he’ll blow all the insurance proceeds on a Hover-round™ which is an electric wheelchair/scooter type thing that we saw an TV ad for earlier today. The Hover-round™ is totally sweet! The commercial opened with these two elderly woman sitting in their Hover-round™ scooters on top of this peak in the Grand Canyon or something and surveying the rough terrain like their loyal Hover-rounds™ had carried them to the top of Pike’s Peak or something. Then the commercial showed this determined old dude with one of those old dude hats, he was using his Hover-round™ to tow a van filled with able-bodied teens down the street. I guess the van had run out of gas and the old man and his trusty Hover-round™ came to the rescue. Then they show this elderly woman who is gently and confidently negotiating around priceless 16th century furniture in her home. Then (and this was the best part) the commercial cuts to another old guy wearing a beret, there’s all these attack dogs chasing him across a rough grassy field and he had his head all hunched down to reduce wind resistance and he was totally outdistancing the vicious hounds in his Hover-round™! Mr. Kitty and I agreed that this was the BEST COMMERCIAL EVER!!

Brian 9:41 PM

Wednesday, May 15, 2002

I’ve become alarmed lately at the TERRIBLE DEPENDENCY I’ve developed on those raspberry jelly filled donuts they sell at gas stations and grocery stores. I like the ones best with the powdery sugar on top, but I’ll go for the ones with frosting if that’s all that’s around. I mean, I’d rob a liquor store if I had to for those delicious donuts. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I thought for a while that I was getting the diabetes. Somebody told me that when you have the diabetes it makes your urine taste sweet. My roommate has eaten like half the pickle chips in that jar in the refrigerator and he hasn’t said anything about them tasting unusually sweet so now I still don’t know. I thought for a while too that maybe I needed a lot of sugary foods because I was turning into a humming bird. I tested my hypothesis by running in place and inserting my long proboscis into the sweet-jelly-nectar-filled core of a donut but, in contrast to the delicate beauty of a hovering hummingbird drinking nectar, my display was more than a little disturbing and possibly illegal if I was to do it in public.

Brian 5:10 PM

Saturday, May 11, 2002

Well, I’m finally done with law school and so had some time to work a bit at my organic garden plot. While I was there I was digging away and crushing root grubs to death with an old rusty pair of pliers and all of a sudden I felt this cold chill. I looked up and I saw this filthy Robin watching me out of the corner of his eye! I knew exactly what he was after, he was waiting for me to leave so he could dash in and eat some of the worms that I had uncovered. So I was like, “These are my worms! Go down to the community center and rent your own organic plot if you want some worms you filthy bastard!!” It was kind of a mean thing to say, because all the plots are already rented for the summer and it would have been a wasted call for the robin. It was a mean thing for me to say, but see, I have this problem with birds because when I was a little kid I came home with a feather that I had found and my parents had started freaking out that I was a “filthy lice hazard!” and had made me stand naked in the front yard while they poured vinegar over my head and it got into my eyes and, well . . . . But so anyway, here I was with this filthy worm mooching bird watching me. At first I started trying to think up ways to kill him. But the more I thought about it the more I began thinking that I could turn this situation to my advantage. Here is the deal that I worked out with the bird: I would throw him the worms I found in exchange for animal favor points. A normal sized worm is one point, and a moderately sized night-crawler is three points, but the really fucking big night-crawlers don’t count for any points because he doesn’t eat them for some reason. The deal is that I can exchange my animal favor points for certain animal favors according to the following conversion chart: Warning me when my enemies are approaching: 2 points Pooping on my enemies: 4 points Pecking my enemies: 10 points per peck Pecking an eye out on one on my enemies: 20 points Changing Mr. Kitty’s litter box: 10 points Spying on my enemies: 5 points per day Giving my enemies creepy looks: 1 point per fifteen minutes of creepy looks Getting help if I fall down a well: 5 points Pushing my enemies down wells: 10 points Granting wishes: 25 points per wish (note: the cost of granting wishes was a tough spot in our negotiations. The robin insisted that granting wishes had to be the most expensive animal favor because, for example, if pecking both my enemy’s eyes out cost 30 animal favor points then I could just “wish” that the robin pecked both my enemy’s eyes out for the 25 point cost of granting a wish and save 5 animal favor points. The robin argued that the cost of granting a wish would form a de facto ceiling on animal favor costs. I argued that 25 points was too expensive and would make any small wishes that I wanted granted cost prohibitive and this reduced the value of the agreement disproportionately. We tinkered with a compromise “wish cost table” addendum to the contract for a while but in the end I conceded on this point in exchange for the liquidated damages clause I wanted.) Cooking a sizzle steak sandwich for me: 7 points Poisoning my enemy’s sizzle steak sandwich: 12 points Pretending that HE was driving if I was pulled over and drunk: 20 points Giving me his “clean” white urates for me to substitute as my own at a drug test: 15points I found and fed like 13 points of worms today to that robin and so now I’m just sitting back with a tallboy of Miller Light and maxing and relaxing with my animal favor conversion chart. Just so you know, all you people that made fun of my pants that day in highschool, when a bird poops on you tomorrow or pushes you down a well. . . vengeance is mine!!!!!

Brian 4:18 AM

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