For My Consideration

So, I'm considering some things. I thought I'd write them down and be able to look back and see which I actually chose and which ones I didn't fully embrace.

I'm considering...

1) buying a fancy camera so that I can be a mediocre photographer with an excellent camera. It's like giving those thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters word processors so they can work even faster. Eventually I'm bound to take a good snap.

2) giving up on heterosexual women and just being the male version of a fag hag. I'm thinking of calling myself a Dyke Rider. Maybe I can start a trend. I wonder if I'd have to buy new clothes? I'm open to helpful input here.

3) getting around to paying my taxes for 2007.

4) a radical career and life change and move after my next year of teaching. Yep, another one.

5) dropping out of civilization to live off the land. No, wait, that sounds tiring. Much as I'd enjoy not getting any junk mail it would suck to have to teach woodland creatures to be my friends AND have to eat the very same creatures to survive.

6) opium, opium, opium. Light me up!

7) getting up to go pee and then getting a refreshing beverage.

Three Pennies

Last night I met up with some friends at a drink to help charity event. I think this particular charity was about abolishing the Prison Industrial Complex. I don't really know what the fuck that means but it matters to somebody so why not raise some money for the alcohol appreciation society at the same time. It was a fairly friendly crowd.

After my friends and I closed out the bar we got some lovely pizza. I treated because I'm frighteningly wealthy and generous. I had to leave because they started using some kind of nasty smelling cleaner. So while my friends finished their pizza I met a loud homeless woman who told me that it was her birthday and asked me if she looked good for 49.

I told her she was 49 and looked just fine because I am a dynamic street poet with crazy rhyme skillz. She continued to speak to me about her uncle and her sister who were down the street and not taking care of her. Finally my friends came outside and we could leave, but the woman insisted that I'd promised to give her three pennies. I actually had three pennies on me but I was taken aback by the idea that I had promised her anything. Also I thought giving her three pennies would just piss her off more. I told her I hadn't promised her anything but she insisted that I absolutely had. I told her that I no longer believed her that it was her birthday and I was leaving. She got very annoyed and said that she should kick her size 14 shoe right up my ass. If somebody lies and then threatens you does that automatically take back your compliment?

It's not always good to get attention.

When I'm an angry homeless black woman I'm going to remember to be nice to people. Especially on my birthday.

An Open Letter to Facebook

Hey Facebook,

It's Kranki here. I see you've been in the news a lot and you're getting more popular every day. That's awesome, congrats. Listen, you and I have spent a good amount of quality time together. Remember when we stayed up all night and I drank too much and passed out right next to you? I had the keyboard imprint on the side of my face. LOL! ROFL! Good times, good times... Anyway, I know you're busy and don't want to pressure you or anything because you know that's not my style. I do however need to made a simple request. Can you please make me look cooler? Please?

If I wait for my friends to do it, it'll never happen. They're far too busy finding terrible and embarrassing pictures of me to share. Pictures where I'm in some idiotic pose with a stupid prop or where my hair has grown out into a mullet because I was on vacation and didn't care. Pictures where I'm clearly going to be hung over the next day and doing something "zany" or "wacky." Or they'll find the one picture where I accidentally Frenched one of their dogs. That kinda thing. As you can imagine while it shows I have a fun side it doesn't really convey cool. And while I know I'm not some runway model with brooding good-looks I still think I deserve better from you, Face. I mean, I don't want to have to remind you that I left MySpace for you. I've only spoken through MySpace a handful of times in the past year. I've made a commitment to you. Lately though I've been having my doubts about your commitment to my happiness and my needs. So, I really need to know where our relationship headed. I didn't want to say it but with you my sex life has really gone down hill. MySpace was helping me get ass pretty regular. MySpace helped get me laid by nearly a dozen* women. What kind of action do I get from you? Zero. Sure you helped get me back in contact with some dear old friends from high school and college and you've certainly introduced me to some interesting Australians but get your act together, dude, they live in Australia. I'm here in San Francisco.

I'm getting off track here, it's not all about hooking me up with attractive women.** I also want to be taken a bit more seriously as a creative artist. Look, what I'm basically saying is you owe me for my loyalty. You need to start making me look like a cool, sophisticated, man about town. If you can't do that I may be forced to do something drastic. That's right, if you can't hold up your end of the deal I may be forced to leave the house to meet people. Let's both hope it doesn't come to that. Get it together, Face. I want to work this out. I love you, man.

p.s. I'm still kinda ticked off that you made me use my real name. So much for an intriguing mystery name that implies I'm a jaded malcontent with a playful edge.


* really just 7 times

** it isn't?

Monty Magic was Wondering

My handsome and learned friend, Monty, from South Africa (I only have one there since I never bothered to exchange information with the topless chick that I met in Amsterdam who was painting mushrooms and rainbow zebras in the basement of a bike shop. She didn't strike me as much of a corresponder anyway) wanted to know what happened on the aggravating Saturday night a few weeks back. Well, I wasted time on a very frustrating person who happens to suffer from adult A.D.D. and is freshly divorced and carries with her a whole mess of baggage and intimacy issues. It seems that I am going to actually have to call her and tell her that she isn't somebody with whom I wish to spend my time with. Why do we always give the attractive ones more chances?* She seems to find the dynamic of leading me and lately my friends on then feigning complete ignorace of the ways in which human beings interact with one another to be delightful fun that we should do again real soon. I did enjoy when she jump-kicked off of the moving bus, but that was only because there was a danger of her falling, hitting her head and becoming more sane.

I am looking forward to not having to worry about San Francisco and the strange cards it has seen fit to deal me. Granted I've proven not to be a very good card player but you still need a few good hands to with the pot. Bluffing doesn't work as well in the real world as it does in cards. Or maybe it does and I should start wearing my "I am so fuckin' happy and rich!" shirt. Soon I will be on vacation and despite being too sick to undertake the flight and long road trip I am about to undertake I'm going. If you're good Uncle Kranki will bring back a shiny anecdote for you from Colorado. I will think of you as I soak my feet in the hot tub at a very large and elegant Telluride home.



























































* That's easy. It's because we're all a selfish and shallow lot of fools who are taken in by packaging.

Ear Plugs

I can always tell when the lesbian couple upstairs are about to get conjugal because it's the only time that they run their shower in the evening. Sometimes it's fun to listen to their love-making but most of the time it just keeps me up. I've actually invested in a pair of ear plugs. The side of the box doesn't guarantee that it will protect the wearer from the sounds of Saphic pleasuring but they really do block out nearly all of the noise. I don't hear any of the moans, grunts or fevered whimpers of pleasure. I only hear the creak of the floor when they change positions. I really should send in a letter to the ear plug company telling them how helpful their product has been.

I just wasted a Saturday Night. I can't tell you what I was doing because I'm ashamed that I didn't trust my better judgement and just made other plans for the night. But I fucking god damn well didn't trust my judgement and ended up listening to my Id and my friend Mr. S and ended up spending time with a crazy person who annoys me 85% of the time I'm around them.

I will never get this Saturday Night back ever again. I could write the next great novel of our time but no matter how poignant and evocative that piece of shit international best seller is, I will still never be able to unlive this evening and gain back the time wasted on foolish notions.

You can't change a person into a sane person and you certainly can't trick them into being sane, so if you are around somebody and they are acting crazy and.... now the phone is ringing. It's the crazy person in question. Thanking me for hanging out tonight and trying to convince me to keep trying with them. I think not. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me 9 times and I'm a martyr to a pointless cause.

Thanks Dee Dee!

I believe it was Sophocles who said it.

"To truly know a man you must first crash out on the dude's couch."

It's been a while since this kranki old boy has strung together two back to back out till five am nights.. This morning I was pleased to learn that my kind host, Mr. Wright, grinds his own coffee beans. After a night of mild mayhem it takes a while for me to do my morning-after damage assessment. It isn't until I've cradled the reassuringly warm and solid mug in my hands and taken the first few sips of comforting caffeinated brew into my system that I know my brain is still mostly intact. At that point I always say a silent pagan prayer of thanks to the God of wine, women, and song. I think that particular god's name is Decadence. Although his close friends just call him Dee Dee.

Since Enny asked

This is what happened. She talked about her ex boyfriend entirely too much, called me a lightweight drinker (I am. Plus I was full from dinner, but no guy likes to hear that) which caused me to drink more than I needed. I kissed her at one point and it was nice but then she said she had to go at 10:24 pm to do some work which when she described it sounded like it was less than urgent to me. I told her that was bullshit, but fine. Then on the way up the hill walking back to her car she said she couldn't make it and I picked her up. She was too fucking heavy and I was too drunk and I went to place her atop some recycling bins and kiss her sexily but ended up dropping her on the light and empty bins and face planting her into a parked car. If that wasn't bad enough there were some people who saw the whole thing and uncaringly asked if we were okay before telling us to pick up all the containers that we had knocked over. She apologized for being too heavy and I walked her to her car, made a quick joke about promising not to call her and hurried inside. I went to sleep even though I should probably have just slit my wrists in the bathtub. At least I don't work with her... Oh, wait... FUCK!

Date with Disaster

I think it was the worst date I've ever gone on and the second worst date I've ever heard of. The worst date I've ever heard of happened to my friend. She was out on a mediocre date with a guy who was driving back from the restaurant and began to accelerate to almost 75 miles per hour on a residential street. She asked him what was wrong and insisted that he slow down. He wasn't listening to her but a few minutes after speeding up he suddenly lowered his head and looked totally dejected as he brought the car's speed down to just 20 miles per hour.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

He said nothing and just looked out at the road. This weirded her out and caused her to genuinely worry.

"Hey, you need to tell me what the hell is going on!" She insisted.

He finally looked up at her. At that very moment she began to smell a terrible odor that was far more than just flatulence.

"Well," he said. "It's just that the food didn't... I really like you and... I was nervous so..."

Then the smell hit her with its full nostril curdling force and she realized that the guy she was on a date with had just shit in his pants.

"Nevermind, just let me off right here and this never happened."

My date wasn't that bad, but it was very close.

Pre Bay to Breakers

Well tomorrow will be my first Bay to Breakers. It's really strange to be waking up at 7:30 in the morning on a Sunday to go get drunk and watch athletes mingle with costumed eccentrics and naked people.

I have my Bubble Boy costume just about all ready to go. I have a bubble wrap cape, utility belt and a bubble hat. I also have my trusty, crime-fighting bubble wand that shoots a few hundred bubbles per blast. Look out evil. You've never seen anything so intimidating.

Dudes at the Park

My day was very trippy. But it wasn't my fault. It was all because of some dudes at the park who, as part of their product promotion, were giving away free samples of their "special cookies." As it turns out these cookies were extremely special. So special in fact that even just half a cookie can have you forgetting how to properly text message and/or stand without falling.

It is a testament to my lack of responsibilities that I can engage in this form of consumer spending. Free 16 hour high. The Dudes at the park are a welcome addition to the small businesses that cater to the laid-back, park-dwelling bohemians.

MM

Mackin' with Jesus

Saturday was the birthday of a young woman I know. She's cool, has great taste in music, some big tattoos and she cuts my hair when I can be bothered to tame my mullet back into hair that a non-caveman hippie human should have. I assumed that she would probably have a bunch of cool female friends so I invited one of the few guy friends I have here in SF to join me.

The best-looking woman at the dinner party was - and I'm not sure the proper term here so I'll just use all of them and be utterly politically incorrect - a midget, dwarf, little person, hobbit.*

At the Beauty Bar we watched some very attractive lipstick lesbians dance until the music just became utter shit and the visual enjoyment was overwhelmed by the auditory irritation. Then my friend and I went off to another place to have a drink. There were no lipstick lesbians or midgets there and shockingly we were able to get a table on a Saturday night.

When my friend popped off to the bathroom this Chinese woman and a tall guy with a salt and pepper beard invited themselves to sit down across from me. They looked interesting so I didn't care that they'd just plopped down. Jeff and Cindy introduced themselves and Jeff told me they'd just been talking about the reproductive tendencies that have been hard-wired into the male mind. I think I impressed them by telling them about a few authors and works I've read on the subject. I asked if they were discussing the topic from a modern sociological standpoint or a more anthropological point of view. Jeff didn't know what to make of that. I think his drinks were catching up with him because I didn't understand his response.

My friend returned and we asked Cindy, the Chinese chick, how she and Jeff knew each other. This proved to be the absolute best question to have possibly asked her. It was probably the only interesting area of conversation to be mined but it was a productive shaft to chip at.

It turned out that Cindy was here from England going to art school and she was currently doing a video installation entitled "If God doesn't do it for you, try making out with his son." Here is the gist of it. When she was a girl attending Catholic School she was fascinated with the image of Jesus that hung in her auditorium. She was particularly entranced with his beard which she would day dream about often. So now her video installation entails her filming herself making out with men whom she doesn't really know who have beards. As she explained it "I like to go to their apartments after arranging to meet them and I video tape them making out with me for as long as we can until it becomes uncomfortable or awkward." She had recorded just seven guys so far and she was feeling a bit down about her low number of subjects. When Jeff went to get more drinks and probably flirt with other women she confessed that she had developed a bit of a crush on this guy Jeff who she had just met because he is in an all beard-having, male, acapella group that sings Leonard Cohen songs. The name of the group is Conspiracy of Beards so it seemed a good idea to approach this group and try and convince some of these guys to make out with her on camera.

I asked her to show me how she would ask me if I had a beard so that we could see her approach and I have to say it was about as terrible as one could imagine. I gave her some pointers on how to talk to these guys and I suggested that she should go down to the Castro district and see if gay men would be open to the idea.

She told me she was writing my name and number down in her little book because I had "a special quality about me." I made it clear that I had no plans to grow a beard anytime soon so I doubt I will actually hear from Cindy, the Chinese chick with a wide-on for guys that look like Jesus who makes a weak attempt to hide her fetish as something resembling art.

I never understood why any woman would want to have a beard up rub against their face while kissing a man.

* I know you were hoping this post was going to be about how I had hot, kinky, sex with a little person. I can't say I blame you.

New York Juice

I'm finishing up a trip to New York City and I have to say that the city is an inspiring place. Seeing all the people out and about on the streets creates an energy that you can feel. It charges me up with ideas and gets my gears moving. I've been in a non-writing, non blogging funk for quite a while now and I hope that the visit will give me a creative burst.

For me the most astounding thing about being in Manhattan is the fact that they have everything here. Almsot anything you could possibly good or service that you can think of that exists is available. Any type of cuisine is at most a short subway or cab ride away. The sheer number of options for how to spend your time is probably what makes New Yorkers run about like headless chickens. Stylish headless chickens. New York may be the only city where on the same block you can get a gourmet a French roast cup of Kenyan coffee, a sumptuous Italian meal, and a happy-ending Swedish massage from a Vietnamese woman who speaks Spanish. Mei-Ling is a talented woman.

I need to get cracking on some more writing so I can reclaim my status as a struggling writer instead of just being somebody struggling to write.

More About T-Shirts

Last week I wrote about the difficulty of wearing certain kinds of T-shirts with words on them such as this one.
But the idea of wearing a picture of somebody else wearing that shirt opens up an entire new set of possibilities. It changes it from being a statement shirt to a commentary on somebody else's statement.

I don't think I would personally wear a shirt that said "GIANT CUM" but I would probably be up for wearing the shirt above. I don't know that the words on the shirt have any relation to the picture.

Right now I'd like a shirt with a picture of Dubya that says "It's not too late to kill me and my puppet master for shoving that giant piece of rusty metal into your ass." Maybe something a bit more catchy.

Fickle are Friendships

Holy Cow, I got some comments. I must say I was delighted to find that there are brave men and women out there willing to forgo doing something constructive to not only read my blog but to take the time to comment. You are all beautiful people in my eyes. I should also say that I am running a high fever and am on two different kinds of cold medicine so it will be interesting to see what my fuzzy and borderline delirious mind decides to tell my fingers to do.

I think I want to write about friendship because I've had a great many over the years and very few have lasted. I wonder sometimes if perhaps I become tedious to people after a while. I think I can be charming when people first meet me but perhaps the novelty wears off in time. Maybe I'm not a happy enough person so people don't want to put up with my dark episodes. I'm not rich, or successful and I can only rarely score you free tickets to see a cool band. I try to be a good listener and give helpful advice.

Maybe friends are just like shoes where you try on different kinds and different styles to see what fits you and some go out of style or just get worn down from years of use.

It would be so much better if the good friends we had were always there to be good friends and ports in the storm. But the reality is that many times we choose our friends based on what they can do to help us and we give just enough to keep getting what we want from them.

To me friends are especially important because I don't have any brothers or sisters or a very large family so it's hard for me when good friendships come to a bitter ending or as is more often the case just drift away. Sometimes it's because somebody moves or gets absorbed into a Borg-like relationship but other times I can't even tell how or when it happened.

Since I moved to a new city just over a year ago I've worked very hard to try and carve out some friendships and it's been work at times. I've also been trying to reconnect with some old friends through email but even in the few cases where there has been an inital response that is tremendously positive the emails just stop coming.

Some people are too busy to have friends that aren't going to move them up the social ladder or help their career. That's unfortunate because for me having true friends is what makes it all worthwhile.

FBI

So I'm sitting at my local cafe having a turkey, avocado, bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich on a lovely baguette with a fresh lemonade to drink just thinking that maybe, maybe, things are okay in the world. Just at that moment, as if to pimp slap that notion from my head, this Hispanic guy walks into the place wearing his brand new shirt. This shirt.

He had no ironic sense about him. On many people it could have a 'so crap it's brilliant' style to it. Slap it on a geeky keyboardist or a... hmmm... put it on a hip lesbian construction worker and... no... wait. Okay, okay, I have it. Put it on a happily married accountant and... damn, the shirt just sucks no matter who wears it. It was especially horrible on this guy who wore it because it...

a) is original and clever

b) makes him feel better advertising his heterosexuality in San Francisco to avoid any gay men with a thing for aspiring, pseudo-gang banger douche bags who would be all over his action.

c) complimented his ample neck bling.

d) flat out impresses the ladies.

e) ALL OF THE ABOVE

I can't even think of a celebrity that the shirt would seem cool on. That's how shit the thing is. Have any other horrible T-shirts you'd like to share?

The correct answer is e) ALL OF THE ABOVE

Feel The Juice: A Cabventure

I was riding in a cab with my friend Seth and we were talking about the idea of get rich quick schemes and how most get rich schemes actually prey upon people who are looking to get rick quickly themselves. That's when my friend told me he was going another route and was now making peace with poverty. He elaborated for me and it started to make a great deal of sense. Instead of killing yourself or (god forbid) working hard to attain material comforts, possessions, a large and fancy home and the opportunity to dine on fine food in exotic locations you simply go the other way and accept that you don't have very much, don't have to work very hard and decide to be okay with it. It's kind of Zen in a way. Eschuing the material wants and extraneous tidbits that we are forever chasing for the simplicity of the bare minimum.

Seth and I were into a pretty deep conversation so I was quite startled when the cab driver-- loudly exclaimed. "Poverty is the devil!" Then he began a manic monologue that I can only attempt to recreate. I wish we had him on audio or video. He jumped all over the place but some of the things I remember him ranting about were money and sex. "You got to have a good car and money in your pocket to take your nice lady out for dinner -- but I would never have sex with a condom because I GOTTA FEEEEL DA JUICE!... ya know?"

We goaded him hoping he'd share more of his blue collar brilliance with us.
"So, you seem to be saying that you don't like having intercourse while wearing a condom."

CABBIE: "Yeah, man. Dat's for shit. A condom on your cock is for shit shit! Dat's like sucking on a candy with the wrapper still on. When you're in the poosie YOU GOTTA FEEEEL DA JUICE! Mmmhh."

I think he then began espousing on the secret to happiness having something to do with being able to afford a nice car, a cute girl and someplace good to go for dinner. Then he quickly switched topics. I got the sense that he just wanted to talk so Seth and I just let him go.

I had this one girl in my cab and she says to take her to the Saint Francis Hotel and can I come get her in one hour, right?! So you know she's selling her trim trim. I mean I drove her to a few places and she was telling me how much she charges these guys like thousands of bucks right because some of these rich guys they will pay whatever for good trim. For her it's like popping a champagne cork but instead of a big gooey load coming out it's money for her. She's sucking up the money. She got a mouth full of money.

We got out of the cab and I told Seth that Taxi Cab Confessions had it all wrong. The real show would be putting a camera on the cab driver and just letting them rant.

I'd like to think that there was a deep philosophy behind the notion of "feeling da juice." A philosophy that embraces the world as it truly is, and the importance of not shielding oneself with a protective or insulating layer. How it is crucial to truly and fully experience all that life has to offer. That's really giving our cabbie too much credit. He just has very strong feelings about how he likes his "poosie."

Sometimes people I meet ask me why I left LA and "the biz" It's always been hard to articulate but this video resonated with me.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&VideoID=1577240

Tatyana

A few days ago this email showed up in my mailbox. Sometimes I receive mail from blog readers and readers of http://www.thescene.com.au/ where I write some semi-purile ramblings and a Celery and Cube cartoon with the help of my good friend and collaborator Joe Shiggybuns. This wasn't one of those.

Greetings... It is written to you Tatyana by me have written to you onyour structure on site Yahoo. I ask the application that I have notwritten to you yesterday but I waited from you the letter yesterdayvery for a long time both you have not written also I already thoughtthat you do not write to me and I left from the Internet of cafe infact write to you from the Internet of cafe. And in the Internet ofcafe of service of the Internet cost dearly and I did not begin towait too much. And I would write to you a little about me that youknew I live in Russia in city Cheboksari it is not so big city to benear to river Volga. And I work as the operator on cooking a broth ona farm on cultivation of pigs. And it is very difficult at us in Russia to find work by a trade. And by a trade I the cook. And on mywork pay very few money but to month would suffice what to live andsupport. And I have decided to try the happiness on the Internet bothI have written to you and I so is strongly glad that you have writtento me. And as I send you my image of me. And if I have interested youthat write to me I with the big impatience tomorrow I would shall cometo the Internet of cafe what to read yours the letter of you. And onit I finish the letter with the best regards your new familiar ofRussia Tatyana.







Okay so Tatyana tries "the happiness on the internet." Maybe Krankiboy means something different in Russian. Most likely she just wants to get the hell out of her situation of cooking some kind of pig broth. Who can blame her?

Here is my response:

Hello Tatyana: I am not sure why you have chosen to write to me and send me your pictures. I am sure you are a very nice person, but I am not interested in a relationship.

I wish you good luck in your search.

Krankiboy

Today I received this. I think something may have been lost in the translation.



Greetings my new friend . And I am very glad that you have answeredme again. And I know that between us with you a difference in timeapproximately 8-10 hours and at you probably now even night. And Ihope that all of you understand that I write to you in fact mine theletter I I write to you earlier at school studied the English languageand I so is strongly glad that I studied it in fact now I can wellcommunicate with you. And as if you again will write me that we withyou we can talk tomorrow in this it is high time. And it is a littleabout me to me 29 years and my birthday in August of 13 numbers. I inRussia live together with my grandmother in fact at me anybody was notpresent from my native my parents were lost when I was absolutelysmall in accident. And as I was the only child in family I have nobrothers sisters. And since the smallest years of me my grandmotherbrought up and I am very strong to it for it is grateful. I have notenough friends but I am glad that at me the new friend has appearedand I think you my new friend. At me very difficult and heavy work. Ibefore have been never married also I have no children. We with mygrandmother live in an apartment together and we still have cat hisname is Murka. And you as write all about you and ask to me anyquestions of you to me it will be very pleasant to answer all yourquestions. Also write more about you and your life. And on it I finishthe letter I wish you to lead this week-end perfectly. Your new friendTatyana.

One Russian pig farm year must be equal to three normal years. Is she lying about her age or is it just a hard life that has aged her more quickly?

That's actually rather stylish wallpaper and some awesome looking hardwood flooring. Maybe I should have her fly me out and I can get a job chasing the pigs into the stew.

I'm at a loss. Can you help me out? Is so very lonely that I should correspond with her from time to time OR would that be somehow misleading to her and mean. OR should I just tell her to send me some skanky topless photos and promise to fly her out to be my bride. I'm kidding about the last part so don't any of you pervs ask. You know who you are.

Your thoughts?

And if I should write her please, please give me some ideas of what you'd like me to ask her.

Notable Quote

Notable Quote

"Sixty-eight percent of Republicans don't believe in evolution.
On the other hand, only 5 percent of monkeys believe in Republicans."

-- Stephen Colbert on The Colbert Report

Found on Craig's List

I didn't invent this. It's from Craig's List. As a friend remarked "Is this what dating in Los Angeles has been reduced to?"

My baby mama's beautiful nurse - m4w - 32

Reply to: pers-498176543@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-04, 1:18AM PST

My baby mama was giving birth and you walked in as her nurse and I couldn't believe my eyes! You had such a sexy little Southern accent and were very outgoing. I couldn't help but be so turned on by your black beauty. I secretly wished it was you on the bed giving birth to my baby. I ended things with my girl and I'll be waiting for you on the morning of December 5th. I truly believe you are my soulmate and I am not going to let you get away. I think I love you, Mandingo


I think it's going to get a really positive response for Mandingo. What the fuck kind of name or even pseudonym is "MANDINGO?!"

Even IF this sexy southern black beauty were interested in starting an affair with a wandering baby maker who only sticks around long enough to check on his handiwork I think once she reads that he goes by the name Mandigo she'd decide to pass on the enticing offer.

I'm not into you.

Many people find it difficult to tell somebody that they are no longer interested in seeing them. Personally I'm ashamed to admit that I've broken up with women in some cowardly ways. Please note that some of these I did when I was just a stupid teenager. Also, two methods in this list are blatant lies.

1) While over at her house I casually told her mother that we had decided just to be friends.

2) Went away to Europe for two months but failed to mention anything about the trip to her.

3) Break up note slipped under her door followed by me running away.

4) Made up a story about falling in love with a completely made up person.

5) The college classic: Stop being friendly when you see them and promptly start sleeping with their roommate.

6) Had my new girlfriend explain that I didn't want to see her anymore.

7) Told her I was saving myself for marriage and being around her was just too tempting.

8) Used inside information she told me to help her ex-boyfriend say the right things and "win" her back from me.

9) Changed Facebook information from 'In a relationship' to 'single.' Changed status to read 'Krankiboy is no longer dating Natasha.'

10) Wrote a message on her bathroom mirror with her lipstick then snuck out of her place during the night.

Care to comment on a crappy break-up method you have used or had used on you?

My Ride

So my car died... afuckingain.

This time I had my friend jump it which Alex had never done before. When Alex saw me hook up the batteries and it started up I believe the comment was "Aww, it's like our cars are kissing." This is a clear indication that Alex is a girl. Guys don't say that shit. That's why I don't like very many guys.

Instead of stressing out about driving it around to charge up the battery I simply left the keys in the ignition and walked off to have a leisurely dinner. This is a very freeing thing. The idea that my car was just there and running for anybody to take was quite cool. I was half hoping that somebody would steal it so I could get the insurance money and no longer have to endure parking tickets. I'm very close to selling the poor old gal and getting a scooter. Don't judge me, I live in the worst parking city on the face of the planet. Does the planet have a face or has it been covered in polar ice cap water. When the waters rise worldwide don't blame me, I'll have an aqua scooter and a pair of water wings.

What was the point of this blog again? Oh right, it's me, I'm pointless. Some say it's my charm. And my "some" I mean me.

Rejected Halloween Costumes

I ended up passing on some Halloween Costumes. I didn't think I'd have a party to go to, then I got invited to one and I have no time to get a costume. All I have are art supplies at school. I'll either find something simple and creative or have to go with nothing. Lame.

Here are some costumes you won't see me in.

Yellow doesn't go with my skin tone.

Sure this one would be hawt, but I'd bee too cold.

I don't have the person to do the body paint.

This one is just too disturbing.

In fact, it makes me want to....

Blluuurggh!

Happy Halloween y'all.

Do you know the Mushroom Man?

Some days I marvel at how fucking weird San Francisco can be. I was walking home from work on Thursday and saw this guy dressed like a cross between a Ziggy Stardust, and the Cat in the Hat. He had a long floral print shirt and some elven looking boots on. Weirder still was that he was carry a rectangular velvet pillow with two kinds of mushrooms placed in neat rows. One type of mushroom was orange with a large cap and the others were a purplish color. It seemed as if he might be on his way to sell them somewhere. I should have stopped to chat with the man but I was a bit too perplexed to think to do so.

I'll keep my eyes peeled for him next time. It totally topped the lady at the park who walks around selling ganja cakes like they were ice cream.

I hope you're all having a lovely weekend.

Funny Blood - Follow Up

This was in my email today. It made me smile and I thought I'd share as a follow up since some of you expressed some interest.


Kranki

hi.

thanks for writing to me.

your e-mail was very interesting.

i was in la when i received it.

i was on the phone with my mom (lillian) and i told her about it. then she put her mom / my yia
yia (dina) on the phone.

we spoke about it for a while.

the next time i talked to my mom she said that yia yia talked about it for the rest of the day.

i don't know that much about my family tree.

it's nice to know more.

tell everyone i said hi.

hope life is good.

demetri.

Free Wisdom

I'll give you some hard-earned wisdom at no charge.

Never ever try to outdrink a stuffed animal.

Funny Blood

My Aunt Helen sent me the following.

Hey KRANKI Martin -

Hope all is well. Let me know how its going. Just wanted to pass on this info, since this guy's been in the news lately:

I think I told you that Demetri Martin (the comedian) is your blood relative (but not through the Martin line - strange coincidence that you have the same last name). Your great-grandmothers were sisters. Your grandmothers are 1st cousins.

He's been on Jon Stewart, written for Conan, will have a new Comedy Central show in 2008. He's about your age. His grandmother Dina and uncle Johnny were at Aunt Mary's funeral and I sat with them at the luncheon. The uncle have me his dvd and cd (not the latest), which I can send you if you want. Demetri often uses his mother & grandmother in his comedy, talking about Yiayia, growing up Greek, has his grandmother respond to his jokes, etc.

Anyway, you said your Australian friends know of him. His humor is a bit like yours - cerebral and observational. Below are some links. Don't know if you would want to reach out to him, since you have so much in common. (I even think he was briefly married in his early 30's and is now divorced.) His website/myspace invites people to e-mail. Just a thought. To me, its almost surreal, parallel-universe-type stuff, so I just had to pass this info on.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=14653866 - recent NPR radio interview

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=7120270 - NPR radio interview

http://television.aol.com/news/story/_a/jon-stewart-backs-demitri-martin-show/20071003065809990001

http://www.comedycentral.com/shows/the_daily_show/videos/demetri_martin/index.jhtml - video spots on Jon Stewart

http://www.demetrimartin.com/main.html - his website

{BTW, here is how you are related:
Demetri's great-grandmother (Evangelitsa (Sissas)) & Matthew's great-grandmother (Anastasia (Sissas) Bendo-Poulos) were sisters.
Demetri's grandmother (Dina Agrapides) & Matthew's grandmother (Effie (Bendo) Yovanopoulos) are first cousins.
Demetri's mother (Lillian (Agrapides) Martin), married Dean Martin (Greek Orthodox priest, now deceased). Lillian and Effie are 2nd cousins.
And besides the above blood connection, Demetri & KRANKI are also connected via the Finale family through different marriage lines! It's a very small, very close, world.)

Keep in touch,
Helen

I'm not sure how I would go about communicating with somebody I am a fan of. It has a rather sycophantic, star-fucker quality to it that rubs me the wrong way. Would I even want to meet him if he were just my cousin who had some boring office job? Probably not. But if he was a funny cousin with a boring office job I think I would.

Does contacting him make me a star fucker? Did I mention I don't like star fuckers and hangers on? That's probably why I didn't ride some body's coattails to fortune back when I worked in Hollywood.

Please take a moment to weigh in with your opinion.

Say NO way to crochet!

Brother give up the needle. It's no way to live righteous!




Proof that crocheting is an addiction.

Just say NO to crochet!

Please do your part as a concerned citizen to help spread the word. Show your friends the dark side of crochet before it's too late.

I knew it!

We knew that Cheney dined on the roasted hearts of babies to feed his evil powers and sustain his ancient body. Now it seems Dubya is trying to get in on the act.

Puddle Deep

I have come to the realization that I'm in a love hate relationship with Love itself. If you're high as a kite that should sound kind of deep.

Also, if you are high, you'll enjoy this one.


What kind of bees produce milk?
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Boobies

Lame Tunes and Band Names

This is the saddest offering of new music from iTunes since... well, let's hope next week is better.

iTunes Store
New Music Tuesday: Jennifer Lopez, R. Kelly, Brooks & Dunn, and more

One hopes that "and more" really kicks some ass.

Nadine was here and we came up with some band names including...

Not a Panda
&
Save the Scones!

They both hypothetically rock so hard you just got a nosebleed simply reading this sentence.

*offers you a tissue*

The best actual band name I've seen in a while has got to be Bi Polar Bear. They're local to me so I'm going to check them out and hope they can unhypothetically make blood trickle from my nostril.

My Contribution to Culture

I've finally made my mark and can now go take a nap and rest on my wordly laurels.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sezbian

Naps are for cats

I have a student who pretends to be a dog at nap time. It would be disturbing if it wasn't so adorable.

Tasty Beverage

It's called Chelada. I think it must be Spanish for supreme evil.

This is WRONG. It's not a matter of opinion. When you take the juice from a clam, mix it with tomato juice and add that vile combo to beer it's gone beyond bad taste.

Why not just bottle camel piss and milk? You could tell people that it's a delicacy.

Reflective Retreat

I was out at a staff retreat in the middle of nowhere east of San Francisco called San Damiano. It was a place run by Friars dressed in the traditional hooded brown robe and rope belt. After staff activities and games were done for the night I tried to get some sleep but just tossed and turned. Finally at 4am I got dressed and went for a walk outside.

I looked up at the stars. They were especially bright and visible out away from the smothering glare of the city lights. I looked into the South of the sky and was stunned to see Mars popping out like a red neon apple. It was as big as a new moon and lit so brightly that I could make out it's contours and texture. There were red, yellow and grey splotches in some spots. I could even see a hit of the giant canyon that runs three miles deep and stretches as long as all of North America etched onto it's surface. It was rather astounding.

Back on earth a few feet away I caught sight of some kind of movement nearby. There to keep me company was a smallish raccoon. He was perched in the courtyard fountain doing some late-night fishing. He would stare intently at the still water of the fountain and then quickly shoot both his nimble rodent hands/paws into the water trying to grab at the goldfish swimming below the surface. Plunk. I didn't want to disturb him so I just looked back up at Mars and wondered if my friends on the other side of the Earth in Australia would be able to see the red planet hung out so beautifully there in the cool of night.

A second raccoon came out to join his friend but was startled when he saw me. He sounded a warbly little snuffle to his fishing friend. They exchanged a few raccoon communications that seemed to be about me.

Nervous Raccoon: "Dude, there's a human right there, dude!"
Fishing Raccoon: "Yeah, he's cool. He's just been looking up at that big reddish ball in the sky."
Nervous Raccoon: "Whoa, hey, is that Jupiter?"
Fishing Raccoon: "No dumb ass, it's Mars. Now shut up, you're scaring away the fish."

I'm not really a late night walk-taker so I like to think that something was pulling me out to see Mars orbiting so close to the Earth. It won't be that close for another 220+ years. I'm glad I got to see it and make some new friends.

B-B-B-BANNED!

They threw my sorry little ass off Facebook. I think it's because I drew a weenie on my mate Dave's graffiti wall. It's art, man. Art can be impactful. Art can be a gross-looking penis. Plus, um... He total started it. *mock pout* Dave like totally started it.

Perhaps it's for the best, I was spending far too much time poking, karate-chopping, and throwing sheep at Australians. I was neglecting this already neglected blog. Time to go back to neglecting this baby full time.

Best of the Week

What's the best thing that happened to you this week? My thing was having the bartender lady at my local bar recognize me and give me a nickname. Second place was being mildly assaulted by hungry goats at the petting zoo.

Art by Fluffy

Fluffy has mad skillz. I can barely use my mouse to make a stick figure and she busts this out. I can only assume that it represents the red mist that all women are consumed by when they think of me. We don't have the term red mist here in Seppoland. It's yet another cultural tidbit I learned on my Aussie excursion.

How ya going?

How ya going?

Hello?

Hello?

The Ugliest Dog in the World!

I was at the park romping with Ass Breath and Freckle Dick yesterday and a friendly blond-haired gal walked over to say hello. She had her dog on a leash. It was one of those scary-looking things that people actually pay money for. The breed is called Chinese Crested. Why anybody would want to actually go out of their way to breed this dog into existence is beyond me. Let's give it a head of hair but only wisps of hair on it's body. It's like a big, spotted water rat had sex with Yoda and this was the baby born as a result.

I was actually repulsed by the site of this dog with a white pompadour on it's head and wisps of hair on it's liver-spotted back. It was being friendly so I bravely gave it a pet on the back. This was a mistake. It's texture was not of this world. I can only describe it as being similar to petting the wrinkly ass of an old lizard man. I think I actually looked at my hand to make sure none of it had rubbed off on me. I tried to smile at it's cute owner but I think she could tell that I was a tad nauseated and walked off. I needed a beer to steady my nerves after the encounter.

They just look like aliens, or gremlins who have been in some kind of freak accident involving acid or an explosion. Even the "cute ones" look like this.

Little Alien Freak

The one at the park reminded me of Ziggy Stardust because of his white mullet. Sometimes the white hair makes them look like a zombie the corpse of Andy Warhol.

Kids As Entertainment

I'm starting work on Monday. It's a Summer teaching job. There are lots of fiend trips planned so it should be a fun experience.

In that spirit, I thought I'd post some humorous kid pics from the vast Khronicles archive.




Yes, he does taste just like bacon. Sadly, the pig is thinking the same thing. If he was midly hungry that hog would eat the kid bones and all.

I like it. It would be fun to have 20 kids all with hand prints on their head. Perhaps I have the theme for my class summer photo.

She must have told a very funny German Shephard joke. Damn, those are some big teeth. It makes me think of Little Red Riding Hood. Perhaps they're rehearsing a scene from it.

If you have any funny kids with animals pictures please send them my way. krankiboy@yahoo.com

Chipper

When I was 6 years old I had an imaginary friend named Chipper. One day Chipper decided it would be fun to draw on the walls of the upstairs hallway. My aunt asked me why I'd drawn on the walls and I explained that it was all Chipper's idea. I was apparently so insistent about it being Chipper's doing that she didn't want to burst my imagination so I didn't get in trouble.

I wish Chipper was still around but unfortunately he's serving time in prison on a man-slaughter charge. You think you know an imaginary friend, and then they go and do something like that.

An Open Letter to the person who broke into my car

Dear Person who broke into my car,

First off let me apologize to you because there wasn't much of value in my car. I feel bad that you had to go through all the effort of smashing my window only to discover that I have nothing but boxes of old books in my trunk. I hope you didn't cut your hand on the glass or hurt your back lifting the boxes of books while searching for something valuable underneath them. They shouldn't have even been in there. I just hadn't bothered to remove them since I moved. You probably saw the boxes and got all excited that there might be something of value inside. Sorry for that, too. I know how disappointed I got on my 9th birthday when I opened what I hoped was a Star Wars action figure and found a pair of dress socks instead. As for the bike rack and the the large pair of butterfly wings that you didn't want. Don't feel bad. What was I thinking even having those there in the first place?

Sorry there was only a tape deck and no CDs. I know that cassettes are outdated and R.E.M and the Police aren't exactly the most cutting edge bands out there. As for the fact that my coin bin only had pennies in it I can only justify that by saying I had every intention of putting more dimes and quarters in there. You were probably all like "Pennies?! WTF?!" That had to be an annoying discovery for you. Please know that I'm just as embarrassed as you were inconvenienced.

If the contents had been more organized you would have had an easier time sorting through them. I take full responsibility for the clutter. As an added benefit you've made sure that nobody else can break that window anymore. It is now truly smash proof. LMAO ;)

Overall, I want to thank you for taking the time and effort to personally evaluate my car's contents. I hope this lackluster experience hasn't soured you on the whole "breaking into cars and stealing stuff" experience. Please give me another chance to stock the car with a better selection of goods. I look forward to working together in the near future.

Warm Regards,

Krankiboy, 1990 Honda Accord (with shattered rear window) Owner


p.s.

I do think you should have taken Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. It's a great read and is just as relevant and compelling today as when it was written.

Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind

Look, darlin' readers, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm an extremely popular guy. I just happen to have retained my sense of humility and humble dignity through it all. It's not some empty boast either. Just today alone all these people asked to become friends with me. It's 100% true. I seem to have an appeal that draws in all types including, but not limited to....

Artsy B&W College Girls





Sporty Beach Babes
Quirky Red Heads



































Aging Sorority Girls
Girls with Breast Implants
Famous Actresses

Trashy Blond Narcissist Bimbos


Aspiring Actresses
Asian Orgy Enthusiasts

















Latina Gangsta Girls (if I had a nickle for every time I've tapped onna doze)


































Emo Girls whose parents can be such total "mega-jerks"












British Men

Asian Department Store Models











Now I'm not stupid or naive. I know why these people really want me to become my friends. I'm well aware that they're all trying to get close to me in hopes of gaining my intimate trust and having sexual relations with me. Except the British dude. He probably just wants to invite me to hang out with him in London so that he can get some of my cast-off girlie action. Smart chap.

I understand that being desired is the price of epic blog fame and I don't past judgement on these women and British dude for yearning to be near me in order to feel better about themselves. Look, if I could safely have sex with all these needy women (some exceptions apply) to improve their self-esteem I would gladly do so. But would that really be doing them a favor? Where would they go from there? The rest of their life would be a feeble and futile attempt to match that one moment of grandiose Krankiboy Klimax. To give just a glimpse and then shut the door would be cruel. I'll continue to deny them and keep them at a distance. Hopefully they can channel their raw, lustful urges for me into something that will benefit mankind. Sometimes you just have to be cruel to be kind.

Dogs Love Their Balls

It's a fact. Dogs love their balls.

This is an Article from the Sydney Morning Herald

Real, or fake? Never mind the busty woman walking her dog in the park - it may be her pooch who's sporting implants.

Some pet owners who neuter their male dogs are opting for a surgical procedure meant to make Fido feel like he's back in the good old days BC - Before Castration.

Neuticles - testicular implants for dogs that look and feel like the real thing - are said to boost a pet's self-esteem by replacing what was lost.It's a procedure that's becoming increasingly popular in New York.

"We did it so Truman could still walk proudly down the street,'' says Penny Glazier, a Manhattan restaurateur, of her 8-year-old bullmastiff.

"We felt it would be good for him psychologically.''

Neuticles are made from polypropylene $US119 ($A144 a pair), solid silicone ($A300) or a liquid-filled ``ultra-plus'' model with lifelike veins $US889 ($A1,000).
They range in size from petite to XX-large.

"It is mostly men who inquire about it,'' says Dr Gina Antiaris of Miller-Clark Animal Centre in Mamaroneck, New York.

"It's really a cosmetic thing,'' says Dr Richard Green, who has performed the operation several times. "Dogs do just fine without their testicles.''

Neuticles were introduced in 1995 by Missouri inventor Glenn A Miller.

Though it took several years for veterinarians to accept the product, Miller claims more than 230,000 pets in 49 countries have been "Neuticled'' at 17,000 clinics worldwide.

The procedure is performed mostly on dogs, but owners have had it done for cats, bulls, horses, monkeys - even an elephant.

For a full 20 seconds I stopped to wonder if my boy dogs feel like something is missing. They're dogs and while I love them compared to (most) people I think they're relatively stupid and don't notice that their balls are missing. The idea of fake balls for dogs is patentely absurd. They're looking to begin with. I was at the park the other day and I saw this Bulldog running and I can say with great conviction that seeing his doggy nut sack bouncing around wasn't some doggy version of Bay Watch. It was just gross. A daschund went to play with the big balled dog and got pounced on. The poor lil weiner dogs was nearly tea bagged by a nad-sack as big as his head. New Yorkers must have developed a new strain of functional retardation to shell out money for such a operation. I'd like $1,100 to shell out to replace dog balls that I paid to have removed in the first place. Neuticles? Why not Castraticles? Or simply Fake Dog Balls. I think I see the Four Horsemen riding over the horizon.

http://www.smh.com.au/news/pets/owners-nuts-for-fake-dog-testicles/2007/05/11/1178390539146.html

Measure of a Man

"A man's enthusiasm for a date is best measured by how thoroughly he showers beforehand."

-kb

God Bless God

Why does the media insist on calling intelligent design an 'alternative' to the theory of evolution? That's like saying pancakes are a good alternative to an internal combustion engine.

Owen is Hawt!

I'm sick of all the women I know saying how cute Owen Wilson is. I'm happy to share this little goodie. Who's hot now?

Word of the Day

Todays word of the day comes to us from Joe.

Necropedaphilia

Get help, Joe. Get help soon.