Hotel California: The Jellyfish Interview

I don't think I'm being a very good host to my latest guest. I haven't forced her to do anything that would make her uncomfortable, I haven't forced her to take drugs (nothing potent at least) and she has no scars to look back on to help her remember the fond memories. I haven't even hooked her up with boys to make the naked sweaty sweaty with. At least tomorrow I an going to give her a taste of Hollywood TV magic when we visit That 70's Show. Asthon Kutcher has promised that he will find the elusive Jelly G spot.

And now an interview with my guest that Jelly promises will not be funny.

Me: Jelly, what is the worst thing that happend to you that involved vomit?

Jelly: So much of my childhood involved vomit, as I was constantly car sick. Although the worst incident was the day the 8 month old African Aids baby projectile vomitted down my cleavage.

Me: Pretty standard stuff.

Jelly: Can you make up my answers and make them funny?

Me: No.

Jelly: Ass... Arse. Jerk. I can swear in many languages and accents.

Me: Suck my klootzak and answer the goddamn questions. I am a journalist, don't make me hit you.

Jelly: Yes, sir.

Me: Being away from home what do you find yourself missing and please try and make your answer dirty or inappropriate as my readers are perverts and convicts.

Jelly: I'm not good at improv. *nervous giggles that go on for far too long and actually begin to try my patience* *muffled laughter* I've had too much to drink, I can't do this. What should I say? Okay, alright... *sigh* Um... inappropriate. What did you say hang on, hang on. *Thinks* Dirty inappropriate. *more of the giggles* I miss the chance of randomly pashing a Melbourne blogger. No, don't write that because those very few Melbourne bloggers who I haven't slept with will be offended.

Me: As a percentage... what percent of Melbourne bloggers give you a Ms. Fits style- "wide-on?"

Jelly: *Squirms* I think I should reserve the right not to answer that question.

Me: How do you think the interview is going so far?

Jelly: I was thinking of turning on the TV and watching the end of Dirty Dancing, or Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead. Or maybe an episode of Full House.

Me: Before Stephanie got braces? That's hot. Let me get a cool cloth.

Jelly: Kranki. Your dogs molest me.

Me: Let me ask a question first before you start "sharing." Look at what you're weaing for God's sake, you were asking for it.

Jelly: It's true.

Me: Any interesting incidents in LA that you'd like to share?

Jelly: I'd mention the guy who hit on me that looked like a Malamute, but I wouldn't want him to read your blog and find out. It's also hard to go past watching the epic display of brute strength as you broke the security tag off the Grumpy hat at Disneyland. You thwarted those fascists.

Me: What was your secret to getting strange men to loudly proposition you on the streets of Melrose Avenue?

Jelly: Looking like a 14 year old with big tits probably helps, but don't put that, people will think I'm up myself.

Me: I don't know that phrase. Maybe I should just ask yes and no questions.

Jelly: Yes.

Me: Are you planning to take some of our brown babies back to Australia with you to add to your collection?

Jelly: Yes.

Me: Is it true that the Tinkerbell hairbrush I stole for you was the first you have owned in 2 years?

Jelly: Yes.

Me: Enough with the yes and no questions, ok?

Jelly: Yes.

Me: What sort of questions make you embarrassed and uncomfortable in say... an interview scenario for instance?

Jelly: I am not comfortable talking about boys and sex with people who just read my blog.

Me: Can I make up the next three answers for you?

Jelly: Absolutely, please do.

Me: Why did you begin blogging?

Jelly: To get into the pants of hot chicks.

Me: Do you think you are going to share more of your obsession with Sado-Masochism and bondage as your blog progresses?

Jelly: I think anybody who truly knows me knows that I feel that pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin.

Me: Can we scan a pair of your underpants and put it onto this post?

Jelly: Sure, but not these. Doing this interview has gotten this pair all sticky.

Me: Are there any misconceptions about America or California that have been dispelled for you since you've been here?

Jelly: I think that people should know that Americans are much nicer when you meet them here. Like, Americans in America are a lot less offensive than say, Americans on holiday in Germany, wearing ugly leisure suits and complainingly loudly about the food/weather/lack of ranch dressing. Everyone is really quite friendly here.

Me: Oh, like the guy who accosted you on the street and nearly chased you into the sex shop?

Jelly: Yeah, like him. Nice guy.

Me: Yeah, well have a memorable time in N.Y.C. Remember people on the street consider it rude if you don't hug them.

Jelly: Can you put in a bit where you tell people that I din't really run off with swarthy men in masks, becuase some of your friends really believed that?

Me: Liar.

Jelly: Uuuhhhh... Kranki!!

Me: Fine, I made that all up. There were no jumpsuits. Lastly, can I ask you about that loud, gutteral, pirate-like grunt you make when you wake from a deep sleep that happens like seven times a night?

Jelly: My God! Ass Breath just humped my leg. He blatantly did it while you weren't looking.

Me: I think you're lying, but that answers my question.

Five Finger Disney Discount

One Disney Pin... $8.95



Catch of the Day... $9.00


Dozens more pins and anklets and toe rings and bracelets and necklaces... um... quite a lot.


Four JEDI TRAINING ACADEMY Magnets... $16.00


Assorted Postcards... $9.00


Scrunchie Nemo... $4.00


Rubber Bendable STYRACOSAURUS... $14.00


Lil Tigger Wallet... $10.00


Power Claw... $6.00


Pretty Princess Postcard and Picture Book... $5.00


Three Velcro Monkeys... $27.00


Princess Jasmine Doll... $12.00



Mickey Mouse Ears... $6.95


It's A Small World Musical Snow Globe... $12.95



Stealing a whole mess of crap* from Disneyland with your friend...

Priceless.

Actually it adds up to $335.45 plus tax.


*Grumpy Ski Hat, Bouncy Light-up balls and T-shirt and crayons not pictured.

Sunset Junction Music Festival

I read somewhere that if you stay in one place long enough that everybody you've ever known will eventually pass by. Shit this sounds like a Doogie Hauser post. I'll start again.

Went to an outdoor concert event at Sunset Junction down in Silverlake. My feet are still a bit blistered from all the walking from yesterday's Disneyland excursion. After enduring the screeching desperate and fagtastic plea for fame that was some lez-band called Gravy Train, my feet were ready to run me home and rest. Judging from the lack of applause from the crowd, I wasn't alone in my rampant disinterest in this band's "music."

I really don't mind flamboyant people or drunk people, needy people, or people who enjoy hearing themselves talk. However when all of these qualities are combined into one loud and intensely needy person with a microphone it does become a bit irritating.

They (the band members) were literally begging to have some mildly famous person get up on stage with them. "Is Flea here? I saw Flea from the Chili Peppers before, is he still here?"

Hmmm... Probably the shrill sound of your loud humorless chatter drove him away. The sad attempt to whip the crowd up into a frenzy by yelling at them to "Get drunk and dance now!" failed and Flea probably fled the scene.

I did happen to run into a few old friends at this big outdoor music event. I tried to muster up some enthusiasm, but today I just couldn't do it with any conviction. This is solely a reflection on me and my mood, not on the old friends that spotted me and thoughtfully stopped to chat and catch up.

I don't have anything else that I care to share today. I'm in that blogging phase where you feel that everything you write is self-indulgent, narcissistic blabber. It happens about about once a month or so and sometimes it's possible to write through it. I hope to have some better stuff to post that infotains about my trip to the happiest place on earth. This crap post is done.

Another Rude Australian Girl

I need to vent for a second. So all week I've been psyched that my friend is coming into town to visit me. I went down to Venice to pick up my "friend" Jelly today and she wan't anywhere to be found. The people at the Venice Beach Hostel said that "she already left a few hours ago with a small group of swarthy looking men wearing jumpsuits and hoods."

Nice manners chica. How rude is that?

The lady at the Hostel was sorta pissed that she'd left without paying and checking out so she starts yelling at me.

I haven't heard from Jelly all day today. I feel a little hurt that she left to have fun with some other guys that she probably just met. I'm not sure if I will even want to take her to Disneyland when she calls me to apologize.

She said she was going to bring me some Tim Tams.

LA VALUES

Got this in my mail.


Huh?




These sorts of ads annoy me. They show you exactly how fucked up the values in Los Angeles are.

When I look at Daddy's lil princess with her perky smile. I want to roll up my sleeves and go to work with my punching fists until I've pugilized her into a moist and frothy diva paste.

Be careful what you say to dogs

Today I donated a bunch of our old clothes to a thrift store that says it "goes to benefit AIDS." I am assuming that it's not a pro-aids charity looking to spread the HIV virus. Judging from the number of guys working there who were wearing half-shirts I doubt that's the case.

I also-- Yes two things in one day, it was a wild one. I also rented a steam cleaner to do the carpets in our apartment, which have certainly seen better days. Cheap-arse land lord.

I steam cleaned the entire carpet and intended to do another pass in the morning. When I lugged the cleaner up the stairs, I jokingly spoke to my dogs and said, "Well, boys I've got a steam cleaner, so if ever there was a day to piss or crap in the house, today is the day."

What I did not expect was for, Ass Breath, the little one, to actually take me up on my offer. I walked the dogs several times more than normal today and yet Ass Breath still found time to squeeze in (pun intended) two craps, a wiz and three pukes. I'd just taken the little bastard out for a walk.

Wait, Kranki!! Maybe your dog is sick? No, he's not sick, but thanks for the concern.

A few minutes ago the second round of poop-puke tastics began. Just as I was reading a comment on RYWHM about the size of Jeff Goldblum's erect penis, I heard the sound that tells me Ass Breath is about to commence his ritual weekly puking.

Gurgle, gurgle, wretch! Right on the freshly steamed-cleaned carpet.

This is unusual behavior for my house trained dog. Was it coincidence that he excavated in the house today, or does he understand English? And, if he does understand English, he clearly doesn't understand sarcasm. I'm going to take a few days to teach him how to grasp sarcasm. I'm sure there's a slew of informative books out there on how to do it.

My question is this: "Do I have a right to be mad at him since I did say (in jest) that today was the day to mess in the house."

I cower and beg for the mercy of mighty Mynton, the god of kanine bodily fluids. I then rejoice that the steam cleaner works as well as it does.

Hmmm... This is usually the time that the sleeping aid I use starts to work but it's not happening. I guess it's time to break out the warm milk.

Wow. I'm just gonna go ahead and proclaim this to be the Sexiest Post Ever!

Go grab yourself a tissue, wash cloth, or a shower.

It's Disneyland, what's the worst that could happen?

What the hell are they doing to the kid in this photo?

I have a friend set to visit me in LA next weekend and she has her heart set on going to Disneyland. Now, I wouldn't normally go myself, but she has made several promises that I can photograph her in compromising positions with the assorted Costumed Characters who roam around the park. After a long day of photographing inappropriate behavior. We might even have time to go on some rides. I decided to do some research on Disneyland and unfortunately I came across this. Don't worry it hasn't deterred me.

Read the article at the link below. Don't miss the Time Line of Death.
http://www.rotten.com/library/travel/Disneyland/

The Tea Cup ride sounds safe, but holy deep fried shit on a stick - Frontierland must have been built on top of an ancient Indian burial ground.

My Brain Hurts

In case you're not familiar with the term "flipping", I 'll tell you that it refers to that state that you can reach where you are so stoned that you begin to flip-flop between thinking everytyhing is perfect the way it is to feeling that anythin and everything that is going on around you at that moment is wrong and utterly obnoxious and wrong. Hollywood Boulevard at Midnight is not the best place for this flipping to occurr. The place is strange enough in the day time to freak me out. At night when it's lit up and bustling (by LA standars) with beggars, junkies, the mentally ill (er than myself), pedestrians and tranny prostitutes, fat prostitutes and of course the rare fat junkie tranny prostitute who's begging to suck you off for a crumpled up twenty. Or maybe it's more than $20 now. It's been a while.*


I would also like to register a complaint that people drive around in their cars for no reason. I have to breathe extra carbon dioxide into my lungs because you and Roland, and Tony D. and Jesus and Big Leon can't find any place that you can go without feeling like total losers so you just drive around until trouble finds you. I am all over the place you'd think that I had been smoking refer or something like that. Well let me assure you good people that it was very very strong pot. I don't usually write while I'm wasted as I'm sure the lack of proper spelling and punctuation with attest to. Actually it doesn't look like I've spelled anything wrong so far, but maybe I'm not it the best state to judge. I am all over the place with my "thoughts." Oh now I remmeber what I was going to say. I was at our friend Barry's house which is where the narcotification took place in the first place. I wasn't going to go down that road tonigh but there were video games present. In my younger days I used to be a serious vidoe game enthusiast. I had the game and would master it to the point where the computer was nothing close to a challenge. Those day are gone. I remember the first Atari with Pong and Combat and Pacman and there was a joystick and one button. 20 years later The controller not only has a more than one button on it, but you are also expected to be able to operate the other four buttons X A B Y on the right side, the black and white button below it. There is are also two mini thumb joysticks that often need to be operated independently. Then there is a d pad (directional pad) that you can use as an option. On top of that there are two separate triggers that affect anything that you do with the buttons. DO you realize how many variables that makes and how many combinations of moves and buttions and coordinated motion that is required to play something like that? Next they will have mouth operated add ons to your controler and a specil pressure pad that is operated with your rectal muscles. I am scared that I can no longer do what it takes to just sit down and play a video game at a friends house. You now must be a trained expert to even begin to know what the hell you are doing in even the simplest of games. On top of that there is a feature that makes your controller rumble and vibrate when your guy is tackled or your car crashes or your rapper is hit in the head with a pipe or your force shields have sustained damage or you fall off your snowboard or your submarine is hit with a torpedo.

I feel like an old man who doesn't understand how any of these "newfangled" "whoseawhuts" work. I'm scared. Hold me.

Thanks for reading whatever I wrote just now and I will try not to let this kind of wandering meandering tangential writing stream of consciousness writting happen again. It's irresponsible to blog under the influence.

The games that I miss are Joust, Pitfall, Frogger Donkey Kong and the other one. You know with all the flying things and the shooting. And Medal of Honor is still pretty sweet. I am not permitted to have one in the house because I used to have a problem with video game obsession. But now the problem has essentially been solved since I couldn't even play the game if I wanted to. I am feeling more like Grumpy Old Man and less like Krankiboy. The effects of this evening are wearing off and I am wearing out. Yes there probalby are lotta spleing errors.

* I have never made use of the services of a prostitute of any type and it's very likely that I never will. Is it still wrong if you barter and exchange sexual favors for helping to bury the body of oh, let's say for instance.... a police officer.


Profeshional Diagram

Neighbor Update

So my friend Giggles let me borrow his car and I used it as a gigantic means of annoying my neighbors by parking it in the silently disputed parking spot that has helped fuel my hatred of the puke that lives below us.

It's good to be immature. I missed perhaps my only chance to stick a stinky time bomb in Whorella's car a few months ago when late at night I saw that the car door had been left open and nobody was around. I'm hoping that she gets drunk again to the point where she comes home and staggers out of the car in a mindspilling stupor. I'm sure that's what happened. If only I had hated her more sooner. I will have to work on that when I meet people in the future.

Well it's well after midnight here so it's time to play ball with the dogs so they can run up and down the hallway like mad little beasts.

Gosh, I sure hope that won't disturb the downstairs neighbors.


Here's hoping nobody hides a half open can of tuna fish someplace in your car.
-kb

Some Political Krankiness

So the Bush Administration has ever so slowly begun to distance themselves from the Iraqi war. I imagine that by this time next year they will have succeeded in blaming the war on homosexuals.

There's been a delay in the Iraqi Constitution Deadline.

Iraqi Citizen said:

"We are disappointed because we risked our lives when we went out to polling stations, but now we see each political bloc searching for its own interests," said Taha Sabir in Baghdad. "We expected a better life, but we got only many crises such as electricity and fuel shortages."

U.S. officials downplayed the significance of the delay, and Bush expressed confidence the Iraqis would reach consensus.

The Prez-i-dunt said:

"I applaud the heroic efforts of Iraqi negotiators and appreciate their work to resolve remaining issues through continued negotiation and dialogue," Bush said in a statement. "Their efforts are a tribute to democracy and an example that difficult problems can be solved peacefully through debate, negotiation and compromise."

So according to the Amerkin Prez-dent a bad way to solve problems would be through something that isn't peaceful, such as... war and military invasion. Those were the pillars of our military attack on Iraq peaceful debate, negotiation and compromise. We compromised the shit out of the country made many in the military industrial sector so rich that their great grandchildren will be able to wipe their asses with thousand dollar bills.

Next we'll be rolling into Iran and Syria so we can bomb the Middle East into total stability.

I like those movies where the king rides into battle with his men and leads the charge. I think we need to get Dubya suited up and shipped out to personally lead the men into battle.

It reminds me of the time I was playing Super Mario Brothers on Charles Schmeir's Nintendo (yes, that's his real name) and he and his brother Robbie, who burned down their old house because when he set fire to a rug in the basement and then ran instead of putting it out. Charles and lil brother Robbie got into a shoving match and their dad, Mr. Schmeir (it really is their last name) didn't like his boys fighting so he bellowed down a warning "If you boys don't stop fighting I'm going to come down there and beat the crap out of both of you."

Mr. Schmeir would be the United States in this scenario I'm not sure if Charles would be Iraq or Iran.

Honorable Mention

Thank you to those of you who sent me pictures and to those who sent me proof that they tried their best. I am putting the photos together into something that I hope will be magical and lead to planetary harmony. If it achieves anything less than that result I'll go on a motherfuckin' killing spree!

I often google the words 'kranky+magical+christmas+ porn' myself to find just the right photo to send my grandmother. And rest assured there will be some kind of magical, kranki Christmas porn this December. I know. It's okay, I'm scared too.

The site http://images.google.com/images?q=kranky+magical+christmas+porn&svnum=10&hl=en&lr=&safe=off you have attempted to access has been classified as Model ADULTSEX-Search.
In some instances, it may be possible for a site with educational merit to have been inadvertently blocked.
If you believe http://images.google.com/images?q=kranki+magical+christmas+porn&svnum=10&hl=en&lr=&safe=off should be unblocked then we advise that you access the following site http://detwww.det.nsw.edu.au/helpdesk/filtering/filtering.htmland submit the Internet Filtering Unblock Form.
If you do not intend to request alterations to the filtering list, please use the browser back arrow button or enter a new URL into the browser to leave this page.

I am putting the photos together into something that I hope will be magical and lead to eternal bliss and planetary harmony. If it achieves anything less than that, I swear to the Sweet Baby Jesus in Heaven, I will go on a motherfuckin' killing spree.

I love those Fucksters...

A Magical Weekend

It was a fun weekend in which I....

• Went to a tiny Art Gallery Opening of mostly bad abstract cartoon art.
• Argued against the idea that happy people could make good art.
• Ate blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream
• Used my left hand to reach behind my friend Carson's back and unhook his fiance Molly's bra using my left hand.
• Received high-five from Penny as a reward for my finger dexterity.
• Had deep conversation with Penny's reclusive coworker about the various pros and cons of giving women labotomies with a power drill and keeping them around to cuddle with.
• Sat in women's boutique while Penny and other women there talked about me as if I were a trained monkey. "He just waits there so patiently."
• Got sex as positive reinforcement for waiting patiently. This may lead to shopping being used as foreplay.
• Got anxious, panicked and drove through a red light with people already in the intersection. I honked horn to warn them and was justifiably cursed at.
• Got stoned and watched Futurama episodes. The time travel episode was rather confusing.
• Viewed horror movie about killer dogs.
• Wrote advertising copy for killer dog movie.
• Made awkward small talk with drunk guy while waiting to use restaurant bathroom. "Big mirror in here, huh?" "Yup...it is."
• Unsuccessfully attempted to feign concern when the insane neighbor lady next door told me she'd been evicted. "Well, that's gotta suck for you, huh?"
• Was driven around looking for a gallery at night in a station wagon whose headlights would go out whenever the chopstick jammed into the dash board was touched in any way.

Controversial Couple

Romeo and Juliet: A couple in love

I wanted to write something original and bittersweet that would make you want to touch your pretty parts in between sobs, but Mr. Liquid sent me this article and it's just better than any fiction or friction that I can craft today. If it happens in nature that means it's natural.

The Article

I Fought the Law...

It was looming over my head for the entire summer and I pushed it back with all my might, postponing it as many times as I could.

I stared down the barrel of civil service and I heard the trigger click... But the chamber was empty. The gun wasn't loaded. There was no bullet to dodge.

I did not get called for Jury Duty. They didn't call me in. I was ready to do my civil duty as a citizen, as a patriot, as a dude whose name got randomly selected from a computer to be sent a Juror Summons.

I'm almost disappointed that I didn't get chosen. Almost. Being forced to be any place at 8am where there isn't any alcohol or buffet breakfast is cruel and unusual punishment. I didn't get the sense that there would be an omelet chef down at Los Angeles County Court. And certainly no fresh fruit salad and or sweet melon wedges to pile onto your plate. That's really all it would take to get me there and put a smile on my face. You don't have to threaten me with a huge monetary fine to get me to do my duty, you just need to have a variety of warm, delicious muffins.

But it's a moot point now. The Superior Court can suck the salty sweat off my betweenus. I am off the hook for another five years.

It does make me wonder though. Who got put on a jury instead of me? Is there something wrong with me? Am I somehow not worthy to determine the guilt or innocence of another human being? (don't answer that rhetorical question) I actually feel a bit snubbed. What if some fiendish killer gets acquitted because nobody on the jury thinks to double check the forensic evidence? By not having me on that jury they could be putting the lives of innocent people in jeopardy. Some fiendish baby strangler may be let back onto the street to continue his toddler suffocating spree. If only I had been there to dissect the defense attorney's flimsy evidence. But I wasn't picked for the jury. If I'm not put into the fray I can't lead our side to victory. I just don't know what to say to comfort the grieving mothers who've had their children senselessly taken from them by that hypothetical fiend.

Call of The Wild

There have been coyote sightings in our neighborhood. Penny noticed a dead, half-eaten cat on the neighbor's lawn. It was a neighborhood cat that my dogs used to like to chase after.

There has also been a rash of little dogs disappearing. Two chiuauas were snapped up by our coyote visitor. I must say that he is a long way from home. The hills are several miles away.

It broke my heart to see several more lost dog pictures up in our neighborhood. It should say "Lost and probably digested by now." All the posters were for small missing dogs, nothing over 10 lbs.

I walk my dogs at all hours of the night so I ordered a stun gun from www.a1safteyproducts.com Freckle Dick and Ass Breath like to roam about and they were particularly curious about the strange new coyote smells in the neighborhood. Curious beyond the usual level of doggie fascination with trees tinkled in poodle piss.

I like my stun gun. Its like one of those bug zappers. I have this compelling urge to shock myself on the arm or leg just so I know how well the sucker really works. Just the electrical crackle it makes when I turn it on is probably enough to make somebody crap themselves on the spot.

Jury Duty Danger: Starring Keanu Reeves

I fear that I may be tempting fate by bragging about this, but I am far too excited to refrain from pumping my fist in the air and shouting "Yes." For I have dodged yet another day of Jury duty. The dulcet automated voice told me that I do not have to report tomorrow. I actually did that stupid thing that people do in the movies where they spin around in their swivel chair to show how excited they are. Then I accidentally hit my knee on the desk. Of course the drama builds as I must call in again tomorrow to see my fate.

It used to be that you could chuck your Jury Duty notices out, but then they decided to start holding people legally responsible and imposing fines n' shit.

Now I don't want to blow your mind here, but do you think that means that I could, in theory, get called to serve Jury Duty and the case could involved some guy that tried to skip out on Jury Duty.

> Whoa!

I really dig the whole legal process and the serving your country trial by your peers flibbity-floo of democracy, but I think the definition of peers is a bit too broad. That's not really fair. Some Republican Texan Oil Tycoon isn't really my peer. I realize that getting accurate peers would be a difficult task. If one were truly judged by one's peers then the Michael Jackson trial jury would have been made up entirely of Narcissistic former Pop Stars that have had plastic surgery and possess a deep love of chimpanzees.

> Woah!!

It would be tough to get such a group of famous freaks together. How do you find 12 of those? I can think of maybe Boy George... that's about it. Wait, I think he might have a ferret fetish. You get my point.

Now a jury of my peers would have to be composed of leftist, semi- employed bloggers who don't like to go out unless the drinks are going to be cheap or free. Sure it those would be easier to find 12 of those, but would you guys really convict me for one minor, poison dart crossbow... Misunderstanding?

Well, please blow on my dice as I shall roll them tomorrow and see if I can go up 40 Love on the Superior Court. If I do get picked to serve it might make for some decent blog posts.

> ...... Um..... uhhh..... wait. What's my line?

Mr. Rawls

The garbage disposal on our sink clogged up and stopped working completely. Despite my best efforts to trouble shoot the problem by skillfully turning the switch from on to off slowly and then flipping it really fast, I failed to fix it. That's when I realized that I'd need to call the only handyman that our landlord uses. The man named Mr. Rawls.

Mr. Rawls is a soft-spoken, old, black man that wears overalls and speaks in a slow southern drawl. Emphasis on the old part. Mr. Rawls drives a rather large, beat-up van that looks like a fat prune that' wrinkled and browned from being too long in the sun. The van is piled high with "junk." It's like an episode of Sanford & Son on wheels. I don't mean a few rusty hubcaps in the back or a pile of old rope on the passenger seat. I mean it is "completely filled" with junk. I will have to take a photo the next time I have the opportunity. Every cubic centimeter of the vehicle is packed to the gills with papers, lawnmower parts, electrical clocks, rubber tubes, old tools, part of what my friend thinks might be the Lost Arc of the Covenant. Archaeologists and historians would have a field day digging through that van. Perhaps they'd find some fossilized animal remains from the Cretaceous Era under one of the many broken speakers wrapped in duct tape.

Mr. Rawls is a very nice man, but the reason our Landlord employs him is because he's incredibly cheap. I believe the term is Pennywise and Poundfoolish. Why have something done right, when you can have it done cheaply instead. I am always cordial and polite to Mr. Rawls because he works hard and always has a kind word for everybody. When Krankiboy ages into Krankioldgeezer I am not likely to be jolly. I'll have 50 more years of stuff to be irritated about.

Me: "How are you Mr. Rawls?"
Mr Rawls: "I an ole mahn. I am old. But I git around."

I can't believe that the silver lining on his cloud of life is that he can "git around."

We live on the second floor and I feel horribly guilty making this kindly old gentleman climb a long flight of stairs. I feel like a cruel child pouring salt in the path of a snail. It makes me feel just awful that I don't have the tools or the knowledge to fix these things myself.

I always offer him some water or lemonade or ice-tea because I have no idea how to make small talk with the man. We have nothing in common. I suppose I could say "Hey, Mr. Rawls, I notice that your ancient van is still stuffed to the ceiling with all manner of weird parts, pieces and crap. How the fuck do you find anything?" or maybe "I'm curious, what was it like to be a young southern man during the Civil War? Were you rooting for the North or what?"

Mr. Rawls, sweet man that he is, takes ages to fix something. Not only that but he always manages to fix one thing and cause some other problem in the "fixin" process.

"Welp, I fixed that leak 'n the sink for ya." And yes, sure enough the leak is fixed, however now if you want to turn on the hot water faucet it makes a screeching sound like parrot being violently tortured.

I'll see if I can snap some pictures of the Rawlsmobile.

Hey, that's an idea... Why don't you send me a picture of something interesting or weird with a short blurb about it and I'll post a caption. Pretty please? I'll be your best friend.

And while you think of what image (original or internet swiped) that you'll send me krankiboy@yahoo.com, please crank up your speakers and groove to this classic version of the Sanford and Son theme song. It's the ring tone on my cell.

Tasty Muffins

These are muffins

By now you'd think that the internet would no longer be able to surprise me. This morning arose just after 12:30 pm and had a strange craving for muffins.

As we had no muffins in the house I decided that the next best thing would be to do a google search for muffins and look at different kinds of muffins while drinking a cold glass of milk.

What I found was a recipe composed of 1 part cute, 1 part pathetic, 1 part cheerful, 1 part morbid, 1 part amusing, and 1 part disturbed with a delicate sprinkle of insanity frosted with O.C.D..

There were only 3 muffins that I would care to sample again. Three were entertaining and one was only partially baked.

Taste some Muffin Short Films

http://muffinfilms.com/

My Email to Ron

Dear Ron, the following is a story of how the Guard Alaska Bear Spray Repellent was used. After this story you will receive an offer that is for you and you alone.

Myrna loved working with the legless orphans but wasn't thrilled about the neighborhood where the Orpanage for Crippled Children was located. It wasn't the safest place she could have chosen to teach gymnastics, but seeing the look on a legless orphans face when they learned to somersault for the first time made it all worthwhile. Myrna loved teaching

One night at the end of her shift Myrna strapped on her snow shoes and began the long 9 mile walk to the nearest parking lot. Boy she loved those crippled little tykes.

She was about to turn the lock to her car when two large bears stepped out of the shadows in the forest alleyway. "Hey, human lady, where you going in such a hurry?" asked the grizzly bear. "Yeah," said the polar bear, "we just want to be your friend he said with a smug chuckle."

Myrna knew that when confronted by a bear you aren't supposed to run. Merna reached into her back pack grabbed her cannister of Guard Alska Bear Spray Repellent and pretended to pass out.

"Drat," said the Grizzly Bear, "It looks like she died of fright. I was looking forward to devouring her while she wriggled and struggling for her precious life."

Myrna was careful to remain perfectly still.

"I had the very same instinct" said the Polar Bear. "Oh well, she's not gonna be any fun to eat now. Let's go forage for berries or something."

That's when Myrna turned the tables on her assailants. She jumped to her feet catching both bears completley by surprise. The Grizzly Bear lunged at Myrna, but unlike the orphans, Myrna had legs and she used them to execute a perfect double forward flip over the bears, blocking their escape from the wildnerness alleyway.

Cornered and scared, the Grizzly Bear lunged for her torso but Myrna quickly pointed the easy-to-grip Guard Alaska Bear Repellent cannister at the bear and blasted him in mid-air. He fell to the ground blinded. The sharp searing sting of the Guard Alaska Bear Spray Repellent caused him to curl up into the fetal position. The Polar Bear growled and swiped his massive claw across her head. The claw slash ripped the flesh from her eye socket down to her collarbone and the crimson blood spatted out of her severed artery and onto the white snow-powdered forest floor.

Confident that he had finished Myrna, the Polar Bear looked over at his Grizzly companion. Suddenly, Myrna threw a powerful round-house karate kick to the throat of the Big Bear and sent him spinning against the alley wall of the forest. The Polar Bear swiped at her leg but Myrna skillfully lept over it. When the Big White Bear growled and snapped his massive jaws, Myrna rolled to the side commando-style, just like she'd taught the kids. She quickly pointed her trusty Guard Alaska Bear Spray Repellent and blasted the big fella with the patented, powerful and debilitating spray from her Guard Alaska Bear Spray Repellent. With that he was down on the ground wishing that humans had never moved into his natural feeding grounds and dwindling habitat.

"My eyes, Reggie! She's burning my beautiful polar bear eyes!"

Both Bears lay curled up and helpless. Just like two harmless teddy bears, Myrna thought.

The police arrived and quickly slapped the extra-large paw-cuffs onto the bears. "You won't be eating the legs off of orphans any more. You bears are going to the zoo."

"How did you know I was in trouble?" Myrna asked the officers.

"Well, the story seemed like it was wrapping up so we got here as soon as we could to provide a quick and convenient ending. You might want to see a doctor for that bear scratch."

Myrna waved to the psychic police officers as they drove off. The adreneline rush began to fade. Myrna staggered alone in a sea of white. She noticed that her blood pool had frozen to the bottom of her boot. She felt the part of her head where a chunk of her face used to be. The blood loss had simply been too great, and she collapsed onto the soft snowy ground. Her last thought was of the orphans. Who would be there to teach them gymnastic now? Who be there to catch little Betty if she slipped off the uneven bars.

Bear Spray Repellent - Guard Alaska

Well, Ron, what do you think of my story? I sure hope you can use this story to help sell anti-bear spray to people. You have my express written permission to make use of it.

Yours in safety,
Krankiboy

Guard Alaska 20% ultra hot pepper spray has proven so effective repelling bears, it is the only one registered with the EPA as a repellent for ALL SPECIES of bear!9 Ounce Supersize with Shotgun fogger delivery. Range of spray: Approximately 15-20 feet. Dimensions: Height: 8-3/4" x Width: 2" An invincible 20% ultra hot pepper spray. Absolutely the most effective and powerful bear defense spray available today. This product has proven so effective that it is the only one registered with the EPA as a repellent for ALL SPECIES of bear! Environmentally safe! Does not contain flammable or ozone depleting substances. Our formula is scientifically proven superior, and endorsed by the Alaska Science & Technology Foundation. Six years of extensive testing in the wilds of Alaska.

Ron, enough with the email teasers. Just take me in your strong arms and let me smell your deep man musk. That's the only smell that makes me feel that I am truly, truly safe.

I Fucking Love You

Wellz I don't check my blog traffic much (bi-hourly) but I saw that my site traffic has been up of late.

I don't know why that's so satisfying to me right now, but it is. It floats my boat, cradles my baby ego and puffs my pastry. Is that sad? Don't answer.

My thanks go out to all you more popular and more sexier and more betterful writier bloggers for sending me the linkage love. Please continue to help me shoot my kranki joy jam all over the web like a massive, money-shot wad splurting upon the back of conservative media.

Please keep the doggies rollin in. I will do my best to earn your continued blog support.

Sincerely,

Krankiboy

Kranki Reviews Spanglish

DVD MOVIE REVIEW: Spanglish

2 hrs. 11 min. 2004
starring Adam Saddler and Tea Leoni written and directed by James L. Brooks

It had implausable character behavior and it mostly sucked*.

Additional reporting provided by Penny G.

This is true any time the movie summary uses the words hilarious or zany.

"... everyone's life is upended in hilariously zany ways."

Unfortunately I didn't read the summary until half-way through the movie which for me was the end of the movie.

Penny's Birthday

July 30th was my wife Penny's birthday.



We decided to get a few friends together and celebrate over mixed drinks at the Beauty Bar. Unfortunately, I am a fucking lazy dufus drooling idiot man child and I left my drivers license... someplace. This has actually happened to me a few times already. And the one thing I have learned is that the only way the bouncer will let you in is if you a) say it's your birthday OR b) are a hot chick. My boyish good looks backfired on me and the door man asks for my ID. As I begin to search through the dozens of other cards I DO have in my wallet I see the smile on Penny's face turn to a scowl of realization that said so much in just a glance. As I am fluent in reading Penny-Face I read 'Oh, no way. Do not tell me that you forgot your ID on my birthday when we have to meet people inside for drinks. Why did I marry you, you massively retarded retard?'

She talked me in and the bouncer asked me what my favorite color was and I said "Green" and with that, he let me in. Bless him, his kindness saved my marriage and perhaps my life. So if you go to the Beauty Bar in LA and a big muscular dude with perfect bone structure and dark spikey hair is at the door, thank him for me. Maybe let him feel your breasts or something. Thanks.

Our next drink stop was right across the street at The Burgundy Room. Cool let's go-- Oh wait, are they gonna let me in sans ID? There's a humongusly tall, bald, black bouncer. So I'm not feeling good about this one. He looked like an aging pro basketball player. He was at least 6ft 11inches. Penny sized up the dude and the situation and jumped on the live grenade like a pro. "Hi, what's your name?" she asked him.

He leans down to address we human-sized folks. "My name is Torrance" he says with his big deep voice.

Penny was smooth. Hi Torrance, it's my birthday and we have a big group with us and we came to celebrate, but my husband doesn't have his Drivers License He's 31! Can you please let him in?"

Torrance looks over at me and then speaks. He asks me, then Penny and then my friend next to us all the same question. "Are you a cop? Cause I aint' looking to lose my job. I'm looking to do you a favor."

We made it clear that we were not cops and he said we could go in. But then he added... "Well, if I were in such a situation and the big man at the door let me in, I would want to give him something to show my appreciation for the favor."

At this point I know that I have 4 dollars in my wallet. Which seems like a weak appeasement to this massive gatekeeper.

I told him "Absolutely, I'll go in get cash from my friend, and return with some pictures of presidents to thank you."

He reluctantly let me in when Penny promised that I'd be right back. Man, he didn't seem like he was happy about having to wait for his "gratuity."

I walk in and immediately turn to my friend Carson in a panic. "Carson, gimme money, now! I have to--" I must have sounded very serious because Carson dug out his wallet and gave me 10 dollars before I could even finish my request. I went back and gave Torrance, the nice scary man, a handshake and slipped him the money.

Had I known that I would spend the next hour standing in a hot, crowded bar, pressed up against a wall, I may have just feigned a seizure so we could all go home.

I have seen a lot of hardcore tattooed lesbian chicks over the years and I think every single one of them was at the bar that very night. These punk bitches were shoving people out of their way like it was a mosh pit. One particularly hefty sow smacked me into the wall. It was like some drugged up Soviet Hockey player body-checked me into the boards. The sheer amount of tattoo ink probably added at least 15 or 20 lbs to this broad's girthy build.

I had the urge to shout, "Don't blame me because spelunkers are the only ones who would dare to enter your vagina." But without a cattle prod she had me seriously overmatched.

As she maurauded up and down the narrow walkspace she pushed all of the guys in my group at least once. We decided that next time she came by we were going to be a solid mass of wall and she'd have to ask politely before we'd let her pass by. I enjoyed a few more drinks and just as I was wondering when Miss. Gorilla Monsoon might be coming back I was violently knocked against some dude wearing a Danzig T-shirt and spiked leather collar. He wasn't happy that I had spilled some of his drink on a shirt he had probably just washed a few months ago.

"It wasn't me man," I explained "It was that bruiser dykeasaurous over there." This amused him and he almost smiled.

I finally looked around and saw tha Penny and her gal friends were relaxed and seated in a spacious area by the DJ. I settled in there and shot nasty looks at the Evil Ogre-lady. My friend Brady had picked up a tall, blonde, drink leech and we all placed bets on how far he would get with her.

"Hey Andy," she said to Brady, "I wanna get a car bomb, can you get me a car bomb?"

I leaned over and asked her what kind of alcohol was in that drink.

"It's not a drink she said, it's Guinness with... It's got a thing in it."

Uh... thanks Bimbo. Brady returned a minute later. He had managed to detach the leech once he closed out his bar tab.

Next time I go out to a little Hollywood dive bar I'm bringing a large flask of cold vodka and two Samoan body guards. Strangely it felt good to have bribed my way in. Oh, and my drivers license. Even if I had brought it with me. It's been expired for about 7 months now. I should probably look for it.