:: octagon island ::

:: Wednesday, April 18, 2007 ::

Just wanted to bring this up to a not depressing time.
:: taylor k 9:00 PM [+] ::
...

I was going to bring this blog back with the lyrics to the song "hungry for love" by the weather girls but I can't seem to find them anywhere. jason anderson almost has it memorized, so here are some choice selections:

Waiter take my order
I'm so hungry
HUNGRY FOR LOVE!

Waiter where's my pizza?
(where's my pizza?)

Men seem to be my favorite snack

What are you gonna have?
I think I'll have a Caesar
Caesar who?
CAESAR JOHNSON!

I'm hungry, so hungry
SO GOSH DARN HUNGRY!

Of course this is all supposed to be hilarious because, as you may know, the weather girls are two sassy, heavy black women.

What's also funny:
Mr. Taco in Lansing, Michigan
Dungeons and Dragons
Bob's Big Boy
Amish buggies at gas stations
Van Morrison's performance in "The Last Waltz"
:: taylor k 5:59 PM [+] ::
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THIS IS THE LAMEST BLOG ON THE INTERWEB!

There were rumors floating around the midwest that I had died, or moved, or both, possibly. And I'd like to clarify that none of that is true. I'm still in Chicago. I'm in good health. I still don't have a couch. Right now I'm watching Street Fighter 2. Not the movie, the game. I totally forgot about the bonus level where you basically beat the shit out of a car. And the guy from India says "YOGA!" when he punches people.

My resolutions for this new year are
-make more baked goods (doing great so far)
-be more stylin
-eat more vegetables
-not become terribly depressed by boys, politics and the weather

There will be more. Sure.
:: taylor k 7:48 PM [+] ::
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The island itself is pretty much stuck in the eighties.
I have a VCR only. I don't get FOX on my tv. But I do get UPN and the WB so...
Remember channels that weren't affiliated with any major network? As a child I remember a weird one out of San Jose (when I was a child ANYTHING out of San Jose was weird, being pre-Silicon Valley and everything) and many weird ones out of Sacramento, all of which showed "Hawaii 5-0" and "Charlie's Angels" re-runs and featured lots of strange local ads.

If anyone remembers Cal Worthington and his "dog" Spot and lets me know about it, I will do a back flip.
:: taylor k 12:47 PM [+] ::
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Tuesday December 21
MUSICAL POTLUCK AT THE NEW ISLAND
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
with the ERE and Manipulator Alligator (from Kansas, a state I have never been to)
starts at 7:30PM
email theere@gmail.com for directions to the semi-secret private island
bring songs to share (relatively quiet ones), food to eat, housewarming presents

:: taylor k 12:43 PM [+] ::
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I love my job. I only wish they paid me lots and lots of money.

A few weeks ago I interviewed for a job at the Princeton Review, tutoring "underperforming" youths as part of the No Child Left Behind Act ("aaaaaay!") and there were all these goofy teacher types there, the kind you had in middle school that everyone would make fun of during recess. If I taught kids I'd like to be the cool teacher, even if that means I'd get fired midyear.
:: taylor k 3:39 PM [+] ::
...

The other day I felt my body was suffering from several different vitamin definincies. Turns out I just really wanted some pineapple.

On Tuesday I'll be leaving for a nice vacation in Massachusetts. Vacation from what, I don't know, as problems persue me and haunt me and nag at me no matter where I am. I was thinking of outwardly expressing my angst with a really bad haircut, but I don't know.
:: taylor k 1:57 PM [+] ::
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Also, some ERE shows are happening soon. Maybe a record will come out someday.

11/27 Newburyport, MA-the Campfire w/ the Ruckus and the Riot
12/21 Chicago-TBA w/ Manipulator Alligator

:: taylor k 4:02 PM [+] ::
...

This past Tuesday I had the wacky idea to move my bed from my old apartment to my new one by rolling it down the street a la the Monkees. "It's only five or six blocks," I said. "It'll be fun!" I even suggested I put on some pajamas and a sleeping cap and get inside. Paul countered with the even better idea of setting up two flashlights for headlights and using a hubcap as a steering wheel....

So Paul and Mark "MC Collins" and I take my bed out of my old place, set it up on the sidewalk and like pioneers crossing a torrential river (I guess we caulked and floated the wagon across) we gave it a mighty, swift push across Chicago Ave. and then...crap. A wheel broke off.

Once again, tv has lied to me.

My old apartment is an interesting, unincorporated neighborhood right across from an overpriced vegetarian restaurant with $9 valet parking and an especially seedy liquor store. So around us grew a crowd of gawking yuppies and even more gawking winos, two of which quickly threw in their two cents. "Why didn't you get a truck?" "Maybe you could get that cab..." Finally a short, noticeably drunk guy offers to help us carry the bed the whole five or six blocks. Paul and Mark agree that isn't that heavy, and they could do it themselves, but the short wino is insistent. "Nah man, c'mon!"

"We can't pay you guys anything," Mark says. "So, y'know, if you've got better things to do..."
"No man," the short guy says. "I ain't got nothing better to do!"

So Paul, Mark, short wino and his quiet wino friend each take one corner of the bed and we start a strange urban trek towards my new place, the whole time the short wino saying things like "Man, we don't need no brakes!" Paul's been smoke-free for three days and during the occasional break he coughs up some lung matter. The short guy drunkenly keeps giving us directions on the best way to get to Milwaukee and Division.

"You cut through this alley and it's like, eeerk and then you're by the fire station right and then eeeek..."

Though approaching unintelligible the short guy actually gave some pretty good directions. And it only scared me for a few seconds that a guy who hangs out in front of a seedy liquor store was directing me down an alley... Meanwhile, I'm worried the quiet guy is going to have a heart attack every time we stop for a break.

The closer we get to my new place it becomes unclear to us as a group whether we want to actually direct these guys to where I live... Mark is rather sly and says "we're going to Blackhawk and then taking a right..." Paul tells the straight truth, "No it's right on the corner, on the left!" And Mark stares at me and I'm wondering if he actually thinks I live toward the right on Blackhawk or if he's looking out for my best interest. I take some initiative and just tell everybody to paralell park the bed in a spot in front of a house two doors down from mine. Paul coughs up some more, the short guy repeatedly says, "Just point me in the direction of a toilet!"

Mark ended up paying the guys in cigarettes. The short guy kept saying, "Y'know, anytime you're on the avenue and you want to be like hey man here's twenty dollars..."

After our heaven-sent winos left us, we all sat on the curb, catching our breaths and Mark said, "I live for this kind of stuff!"
:: taylor k 3:48 PM [+] ::
...