Frisky Business

So I'm really excited to be starting my own business. It's a match making service for animals looking for love. It's a difficult time to be launching a new business with the economy in such a state but an idea this brilliant is going to rise above the tide of mediocrity and financial strife like a champion surfer catching a monster wave. San Francisco has a tremendous number of dogs and cats. That's partly due to the fact that there are lots of crazy old aging hippie cat ladies living here and old dudes that are so burnt out from smoking so much pot/and or being mentally disturbed that they choose only to interact with canines. So that's a plus I have going for me.

Animal orifices truly are an untapped market.

Now the only things I have to figure out are...

1) How to ask for a loan from a bank for a business that helps animals fuck each other.

2) How to get the owners to pay me for something they can get for free at the park.

3) What to do if there are especially kinky requests for the type of animal sex desired.

4) What will the logo on the side of the van will look like?

There is great potential for a variety of side products such as animal sex toys, strap-ons, cat and dog specific contraception for non-neutered animals.

The sheer variety of meat-related lubrication flavors are staggering.

Perfumes and aromas could enhance the romance even more. Why not splash on some Cat Scratch Fever scent kitty cologne before getting randy with that Siamese? Why not a bit of Toilet Water scented toilet water to make that beagle smell just a touch more regal?

Maybe even a line of post-coital cigarettes for dogs and cats. They'd even have a neck strap that attaches to the collar for easy smoking.

It's just in its humble beginnings now but one day (fingers crossed) there will be Frisky Business vans rolling all across the country transporting sexually satisfied animals to and from pleasure town.

p.s. I found a sponsor to help me get the business off the ground.

Welcome to LAX

I landed in Los Angeles International Airport to begin a visit a few weeks ago. The moment I got out of the terminal and out to where cars and cabs pick you up a woman who looked as if she worked for the airport was in my face. She was a black woman who looked to be in her mid forties. She immediately approached me and rather than provide me with travel assistance we had the following (as best as I can recall) conversation.

Her: Hey sugar, how are you?

Me: Fine, thanks.

Her: How are you fixed for a mistress?

Me: A mistress?

Her: Yeah, I bet a good-looking fella like you got a girl but I bet you ain't getting the dark chocolate goodness on the side, is you?

At this point she puts her hands on my waist and pulls herself next to me as I look desperately for my friend who is supposed to be picking me up.

Me: Um... Of course I have a mistress. Don't I look like I'd have one?

Her: Are you a rock star?

Me: Do rock stars fly on South West?

She takes me by the hand.

Her: No, but I bet you could rock me real good.

Me: You explain that to my wife okay?

Her: I'm just playing with you sweetie.

Then she lets go of my hand and spanks me on the ass.

It was odd to have my physical space violated by a woman like that. If the genders had been reversed it would have been almost criminal.

I can't help but wonder what the hell she does there or if she even works for the airport. Her ID badge and clipboard suggest that she does but I'm at a loss to imagine how she could keep a job if she does that to people at the airport. I don't imagine people are less easy going than I am and it was a bit much even for me.

I think I'm getting younger

Yes, I think I'm getting younger. While my body is still affected by gravity and my hair isn't coming in thicker and I still have to shave every day and my energy level isn't the same as it once was I still feel that I am getting younger. Here are some reasons that lead me to think this way.

1) I enjoy playing with toys and just yesterday bough a monkey in a leather jacket. I know it's hard to believe that I didn't already own one.

2) I gave a "light show" to the birthday boy at the last party I attended.

3) I was involved in a blindfolded kissing experiment a few weeks ago. Please note I was the only male in attendance.

4) Five years ago I was settled down, married and looking at buying a house. Now I am single, live in a shared apartment, and enjoy buying cool t-shirts.

5) I struggle to clean my room.

6) I wear a tie about once a year on average.

7) I recently bought a remote control car. I have a very difficult time going to the Drug Store without going to see what is in the games and toys isle.

8) Sparkly and shiny things draw my attention. I am forever bringing things home that I find on the street. My housemates are starting to find this habit is no longer charming.

9) I have a bug collection. (it's to teach the students, but still...)

10) I like dressing up more now as an "adult" than I did when I was a boy.

Maybe spending every weekday with five and six-year-old kids is having an affect on me.

Silly Friendster

Oh, Friendster, your sad ploys to bring me back to you are about as transparent as a wet pair of sheer panties in the bright summer sun. It's time for you to go quietly into the night where you can find a dark cave to curl up, get into the virtual fetal position and fade away. I see at the bottom of this page that Friendster hopes to reclaim it's market share by offering Friendster in the language of Tagalog. That should catapult them to social networking supremacy.
	New Message Find Your Friends
	You have received a new message from Theda on Friendster. The message was sent on 02/04/09 02:01 PM. View Message
	Friendster now in Tagalog! Invite friends and family that know Tagalog to join you on Friendster.

Back to Writing

I'm going to try and start writing here again.  Too many amazing, weird, wrong, funny, painful, messy, delightful, lucky, random things have been happening to let them slip away unkhronicled.

How to Annoy Your Friends

One good way to bother your friends is to constantly ask their advice about your complicated relationship. The thing about some of your friends is that they won't let your sharing the minute details and obsessing over them bother them right away. If they are good friends they might even be able to put up with hearing the same story about your text message conversation two or three times before they try to abruptly change the conversation or start looking at their cell phone to see if anybody more interesting that you has called them. You need to be persistent. A few of these friends will even check back in and actually call you to hear more about your situation and how you're handling what they might refer to as "your unique and challenging situation." Now it is these friends who do genuinely care about you and your happiness are the toughest ones to irritate. Simply doing repetitive musing and rehashing the tiniest details is not a guaranteed way to bore them. You may have to dig even deeper into your bag of dysfunctional, relationship insecurity. Remember there is no such thing as too much mundane detail. It also helps if you go out of your way to avoid talking about any other topics the entire time you are with your friend so they don't accidentally get something of value back from their interactions with you. Nobody said it was easy. Now get out there and irritate!

Sex Francisco

Since moving to San Francisco a year and a half ago I've had my fair share of dating excitement and more than my share of misadventures. I've been told that some of the more detailed accounts are worth writing down for posterity and perhaps to allow others to laugh at me.

There was the 23 year old from the hostel with the amazing tattoo of The Little Prince on her arm and the shreadded Courtney Lovetype dress who was utterly wasted and jumped in front of a moving van and flashed her undies at the scary dudes in the car. They heckled her and my friends and I pulled her off before I got my ass kicked. Later on, after showing virtually no interest in me, she abruptly and awkwardly pulled me in for a kiss while my mouth was filled with nachos and guacamole. This took place in the in a loud, brightly-lit taqueria. Not the most romantic of settings. She did this a few times until I decided the best thing to do was just leave. While walking down the street she started trying to remove my pants to have sex with me. I had to ask her several times to please keep her clothes on until we got to my place. I found out later that she had consumed almost an entire bottle of Jagermeister shortly before I met up with her.

There was the social worker gal who I met on-line who neglected to mention that she was on crutches and suffered from osteonecrosis. A rare and terrible disease that had begun to kill the bones in her legs and would likely force her to become wheel-chair bound in the near future. The literal translation of soteonecrosis is "death of the bone."

There were a handful of utterly forgetful on-line initiated meet-ups that were forgotten almost before they were over.

There were a three amazing women that I met and became very close friends with.

There was the attractive, clinical psychologist puma* who literally picked me up via MySpace. On our second date I ended up helping her euthanize her cat and had intense grief sex. This turned into a routine of bi-monthly appointment sex. After a few months of this I was wondering how best to end things with her when I got a very well-written and professional diagnosis of how "we were not adequately meeting one another's socio-emotional needs." It was so technically worded that I almost expected to find an attached bill for services rendered.

There was the recent divorcee who suffered from acute adult A.D.D. who couldn't sit still for more than five minutes without getting up to move around and would become utterly mesmirized by shiny things and trinkets in stores. On one occasion she brought her car to a screaching hault so she could get out and run over to look at some flowers in somebody's yard. There were cars that had to stop behind us. She also liked to randomly share the most intimate details including the time she had a botched laser eloctrolisis performed on her bikini area and now had a "cheetah pussy." Her words, not mine. Then when I pulled away from her and her "issues" she became incredibly persistant in calling, emailing, texting and facebook messaging me a few times a day. She just left me another voice mail message telling me how she was listening to "our mix CD" and realized just how much she missed me and my company.

There was the woman who was a few inches taller than me that weirded me out. She also seemed to be surgically attached to her pot pipe and smoked it continuously to the point that her clothes were so infused with the scent of ganja that they'd probably give you a mild high if you were to smoke them.

There was a short-lived flirtation and one time fling with a gal who was in a bicycle dancing troup and was only into non-exclusive open relationships. She told me she was currently seeing five different guys.

Now, after wading through all that social muck, I find myself in the longest and most enjoyable of all my San Francisco relationships where the young woman and I really care about each other, we click really well physically and we enjoy spending long stretches of time with one another. Strong feelings have begun to form and of course she's going to be moving out of the country in a few months time. So, I find myself balancing having a good time with protecting my feelings in what feels like some kind of expiration dating. Life is short and you have to find enjoyment where you can.

It's been extremely interesting and eventful and I've left out half of the other missteps and embarrassing twists and turns that frequent social drinking and a summer of not having to work can help create but really I'm getting quite exhausted by it all. While I want to have all kinds of interesting experiences and explore the mysterious world of women, I must admit that this city and it's women are starting to seriously wear me out. I'm hoping that I'll be getting my second wind very, very soon. Otherwise it could make for a long, cold, lonely, winter.

*young cougar

Kids and Consequences

Hey, remember me? I used to write stuff here and people would sometimes read it.

I thought I'd try writing a bit and see if it got my juices flowing a bit. I feel a bit like an athlete going back into training. Hopefully it won't be too painful an experience to get back into the swing of things. Ideally it'll be as easy as riding a bike. Perhaps I could even coin the new expression "It's like writing a blog."

So, I'm back to teaching kindergarten this year and I quite like it thus far. Trust me, adults are overrated when it comes to keeping you entertained.

One cute kid moment involved me talking about the rules and consequences. I let them help me set the classroom rules so they feel empowered. It's new age teaching crap.

I gave the kids an example to help make it more clear. "What if Oscar kept forgetting to put the colored pencils away even after he got several reminders? Then the next day he left the materials out again and even broke a point of the pencil on purpose? What would be a good way to help him remember?

Kylie enthusiastically raises her hand.

Me: "Kylie, what do you think should happen?"

Kylie: "You should give Oscar more fish to eat. Fish is brain food! That way he will remember better."

The kids are smarter than me. Send help.

48 Hour Film Festival

It's hard doing an entire film (even a short film) in 48 hours. You write it, cast it, shoot it, edit it and do the music and there may only be 2 minutes left before the thing gets turned in.

I hope it turned out well. I'll know when I see it on the big screen next Monday.

Wish me luck. I'll post a link to it on You Tube when it's up.

www.48hourfilm.com

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