Home
The first Tarzan Movie...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1885
I'm happening by a house and end up inside.
There's a party going on, in another room there's some hand-drawn animation, its the first movie to be made by the creators of Southpark, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, there's hand scribbled pictures of Tarzan and then it turns into real life, in the next room there's a party, Trey and Matt are trying to get it all down...
In the next room, the party room, there's an orgy of sorts, young actresses I vaguely recognize, I'm trying to get Trey to explain to me how they got funding for this, their first venture, he's too busy going between being inside the movie to watching the movie to try and answer...
Strange dream, lurid, long, filled with peculiar details that I can't quite remember...
Moleman and the VLT's
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2209
Saturday night and we're - the staff - once again at the dire NE Local.
Even G's tired of it, wants to find a new hangout, place to go, he's along tonight because there's plans - vague, unsubstantiated, to meet up with the old salad girl and party. He has fond memories of these party nights.
The bar, it's mostly empty, the nephew upon first arriving pays his dues into the VLT machine, $20.00 gone to no good effect.
Then G gives it a try, surprising, G doesn't usually gamble, his money goes quick as well.
Our food arrives.
And while they're eating a small, older man arrives, Mole-man from the Simpsons, there's a resemblance, he's casing the machine that G and the Nephew just quit.
You can see the plot, the outcome before it happens...
He puts in $20.00. And I warn the Nephew and G that they've "primed" the machine for him, sure enough, thick glasses, messy homeless dress, in ten minutes he cashes out $250.00.
He doesn't give up, he "plays" the game, stops the reels, makes strange passes on the machine, I'm watching, awed, beginning to think he might know what he's doing. He pumps another $60.00 in to the machine, cashes out again over $200.00. G and the Nephew, they're in agony, they quit too soon, I'm thinking he's some sort of idiot savant, he can see the inner flow of code, odds, probability, I'm beginning to believe in his strange powers, ask the waitress - "does he consistently win?" I ask her...
"No one consistently wins on the VLT's" she assures me, and I'm not sure I'm reassured.
Mole-man is done, eating now with his friends the smallest portion of his winnings.
Notes on being a blonde...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1861
Now reaction a work has been mixed. The owner, a double take and then laughter, advice on how to color my hair more naturally.
The staff, acknowledgement, laughter, some tell me they preferred the old salt-and-pepper, others politely state they like the new look.
I tailor my wardrobe to match.
The nephew, he takes issue with my telling him to shave - he looks ridiculous, fine dining with a weeks, two weeks worth of beard, but I've the audacity to dye my hair?
The hostess, I've persuaded her that it's my natural color, I'm dyeing my eyebrows for shock effect....
The customers, reactions are mixed.
The more matronly female customers, and by matronly I mean closer to my age than I care to admit, they pull me aside and recommend hairdressers, treatments, they'll pay, I'm their new gay confidante...
The regulars, some gasp, others laugh and openly jeer, others - politely, tell me it looks nice.
Overall, the verdict seems that if you knew me - or recognized me - before the bleaching, you won't like the change. If you didn't know me and have no points of reference, comparison, you don't mind it. Some even seem to like it.
The owner, he's not such a fan, it leads to discussions of his own dye job - natural, of course, to cover the grey, but it's an awkward topic, everyone knows but it's not discussed. My ridiculous hair job brings it into the open...he's not comfortable.
Frequent questions: "now tell me/us - do blondes have more fun...?". I can't answer this, I tell them, I haven't had enough time to find out, but when I do I'll make a movie...
Small deflections I have - "No, no, I've darkened my eyebrows, I've always been blonde...". One customer almost believed me, at which point I openly queried her blondness, natural or fake...fortunately she had a sense of humor.
Other observations, made to customers for the point of cheerful banter - "My relations with women have improved, formerly girls would help me across the street, now they ask me directions to the nearest crack-house/gay bar....". Or - "I had to dye it after last Friday's crimestoppers...". They laugh nervously.
So it goes. I don't notice it, not enough time spent looking in the mirror, sometimes, when I do glance, I'm surprised. I'm overall fond of it, not so fond that I'd do it all the time, but I'd try it again. In any event it doesn't matter, in a couple of short months I'll be in Alaska (or the Yukon or Northern BC) and really, appearances won't be that important...
They used to be bros...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1681
For a while G was "dating" the Nephew's girlfriend's sister.
Big nights out, double dates, for a while they were "bros" in the literal sense of the word, but somehow or another it fell apart.
G's explaining it to me.
"He said she was a slut..."
And I'm raising an eyebrow, G continues...
"I mean, from the stories he told me I was pretty sure she'd..."
Graceless, this, where upon hearing a girl's a slut I'd lose interest fast, G's interest was piqued, he played his cards wrong, though, got nowhere fast, and now he's blaming the Nephew.
"Why would you be interested if you thought she was a slut?" I ask by way of provoking him, inferring by my tone that he really ought to know better and somehow the fault is his, he sees where I'm going, doesn't want to answer. She's blocked him from her BBM, Facebook, doesn't answer when he calls, I can only surmise somehow he came on a little strong, heavy in his hopefulness that she was easy, he's a bit upset.
Meekly now, defensive, it's not his fault: "He said she was a slut..." .
Page 822 of 1090