tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-240292162024-03-07T03:02:22.177-06:00Zeepdoggie & The GringOFuck Others.Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-76839867263324413202008-05-28T07:11:00.009-05:002008-05-28T07:38:14.868-05:00<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Have you seen </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://dating.personals.yahoo.com/singles/relationships/22829/15-simple-ways-to-keep-your-partner-happy">this idiot</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">? This is just one of his interesting and thought-provoking articles, all about how the stereotypes of romantic comedies and sitcoms are real and how we can avoid them by just doing whatever he says. I decided to send this article to The Professor, along with a response from someone who thinks that men are not from Mars and women are not from Venus, and that we actually have a lot in common, and that stuff like this belongs in the dirt of a cattle ranch. And since I love sharing the personal and trivial with you all, you get a gander! Lucky you!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">1) Done.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">2) I have grilled, you know. Seriously, there are plans.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">3) I am not big on fire in the house.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">4) Check!</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">5) Took care of <a href="http://www.someecards.com/upload/flirting/im_practicing_the_shocker.html">that bad boy</a> earlier - I hope you got it!</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">6) Who's picking baby up?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">7) No.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">8) I do the laundry, and I do believe I have offered to iron your shirts; it's not my fault you like to look all sloppy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">9) If the bathroom is a wreck, it's not because of my stuff.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">10) We don't, so check!</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">11) Not really big on the shared shower thing... Sorry.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">12) I just want to point out the "her backrub" to "his backrub" ratio is easily ten to one here.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">13) "We're going out tonight, honey, and you're driving!" Our relationship has a different dynamic that doesn't necessarily encourage my solo planning.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">14) Our first date was in a bar, so we should go to bars one night a week? Our second date was watching TV at your place, so we're good there! Our third date involved Christmas...what the hell do we do with that?! Could the class you taught and that I took be considered one long date? Should I take a class you're teaching? This is getting impractical...</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">15) "Hello?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> "Hi, baby!"</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> "What are you doing?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> "I'm calling in the middle of the day to let you know that I am thinking about you!"</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> "I'm teaching my class, idiot!"</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> "Oh... So, I guess I shouldn't mention that I'm touching myself?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Another little tidbit of note; did you notice on the bottom of the page, the first two articles?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"># 10 Fatal Online Dating Errors That Men Make</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"># 14 Fatal Online Dating Errors That Women Make</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">First of all, fatal? These mistakes kill people?!? Listen to Douche Wingnut, folks! People are dying!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">And notice the numbers. Our sensitive male claims that women make 40% more errors than men. Not that I'm arguing, but I would have expected a complementary list or something from Mr. Surrogate Period...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-1702993594988043952008-05-27T20:22:00.009-05:002008-05-27T20:45:49.124-05:00From Frankfurters to Fondue<a style="font-family: times new roman;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-lQsJz__NY7zHmfsxWGe7WjiocWvcF26kuKdLEXPgNFIYMn6BWvRXQfmdBXGHwLJuP0hi6HTbJ866-u1amo_MNcaeZIHY_ttoC-CROZnpI7AZLnBPvdNipBaqDLpiTOzGH5a5w/s1600-h/Small+Swiss.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-lQsJz__NY7zHmfsxWGe7WjiocWvcF26kuKdLEXPgNFIYMn6BWvRXQfmdBXGHwLJuP0hi6HTbJ866-u1amo_MNcaeZIHY_ttoC-CROZnpI7AZLnBPvdNipBaqDLpiTOzGH5a5w/s400/Small+Swiss.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205237624814749394" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Yeah yeah, I know, I haven’t written in forever; I felt that, since I now have this fancy diploma that I should get a job where I actually have to use it. More on that later. I want to talks about something that I keep telling myself is trivial, but it keeps popping up as not as trivial as I think.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Have you ever heard of </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.ancestry.com/">ancestry.com</a><span style="font-family: times new roman;">? Fun fact: it turns out that the site is run by Mormons (try this for fun, kids: take out the second “m”!), with the purpose of potential converts converting their dead relatives. Apparently, there is a tenet in their religion that allows them to do this. That’s kinda scary. What if you’re there, enjoying oneness with the universe, or you’re in Valhalla fighting the eternal battle and looking forward to this evening’s fornicating with ale wenches, or maybe you’re in the Catholic Heaven with the saints and halos and crap like that, when all of a sudden you get whisked out of there and find yourself in the Mormon Heaven? What if that sucks? I imagine it involves </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.ldschurchtemples.com/mormon/underwear/">special underwear</a><span style="font-family: times new roman;">…</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Anyhoo, The Professor has the super-whammy-dyne subscription to it, which allows her to look up ancestors in other countries and stuff. So one Sunday, hanging out at her place, I decide to give it a shot. I had been told that my family was German all the way back, after some point emigrating from Denmark. There were all these cool stories that the Zeepcousins and Zeepdaddy told me; my favorite is about how we were involved in the Third Crusades, in a leadership role, not just fodder for the Muslims.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Well, it turns out that they are all wrong. I’m Swiss. There is a direct line, from father to father, going back to the early 1500’s. And it’s most likely correct, since my family tends to pick some pretty oddball first names for sons. I am Swiss.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I am the first person to tell people that I am American; I was born here, I will most likely die here; I was willing to die for her when I served in her Navy, and I have a passport from this country. I always identify with the USA, and I root for our teams in the Olympic and world championships of the various sports. But there is a part of me, which is wholly American, to want to know where I “came from;” not the neighborhood I grew up in, but beyond that. And since Zeepmomma is British (Irish, Welsh and Scottish, so you just know there is some English in there somewhere – I saw </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="ttp://www.joebrower.com/PHILE_PILE/PIX/TRT/TRT-Braveheart.jpg"><span style="font-style: italic;">Braveheart</span>;</a><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> I know what </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prima_nocta"><span style="font-style: italic;">prima nocta</span></a><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> is!) the side I most readily identified with was the German. It explained my desire for efficiency, my love of beer and sausage, as well as the desire to conquer France and my extreme xenophobia (aHaHaH! That’s a joke, son…).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">But now, there’s this feeling that, since I am not German, I have lost a bit of my identity. It’s weird. Instead of being the big, strong belligerent nation, I am now neutral. Instead of a xenophobic invader, I am a welcoming banker. With chocolate in there, somewhere.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">In the end, I am still me; still a bit belligerent, still willing to conquer French women, still anal about being efficient and on time - hey! The Swiss make good watches! I guess I have embraced a substance of my new heritage already!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">Zeepdoggie</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-40149550876720245212008-04-15T09:46:00.001-05:002008-04-15T09:50:19.568-05:00School's Out!<span style="font-family: times new roman;">I am rapidly approaching the end of my student t</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">eaching. For fourteen weeks I’ve worked with kids and seen the whole range of adolescence expressed in my kiddy-boos. Yes, it’s been a lot of fun working with them, even <a href="http://wtf-zeepdoggie.blogspot.com/2008/01/there-is-name-to-my-painand-it-is-bucky.html">Bucky</a> and his crew of idiot misfits that have stayed behind after his transfer.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ll miss the students whose grades have improved over 30% from last semester. I’ll miss seventh period and it’s collection of characters. I’ll miss the mouthy little girl in the back row who gave me grief because that’s how she shows she cares. I’ll miss the little fucker who called me a dickhead: the only time he was right in class, not that I’ll tell him that. I’ll miss the kid who didn’t have a response after I asked him just how EXACTLY he was going to make something of himself other than to start buckling down and doing his work. I’ll miss Li’l Bubbly telling the newest troublemaker, “Don’t come in here with your hot mess; we got rid of Bucky, we’ll get rid of you, too!” I’ll miss teaching inner-city black kids about ice hockey, and giving them extra credit for giving me an interesting fact about the ‘Hawks whenever I wore a jersey.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ll really miss reading their papers and seeing them reach for something outside their experience, like when Star Shine talked about putting someone on a “pedal stool;” that effort got her an A.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ll miss them teaching me about learning.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Some things I’ll take away:</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• There is always time to listen to a kid, no matter what;</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• A white man calling his girlfriend “my boo” is ALWAYS funny to black folks;</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• It’s all about effort;</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• It’s really easy to overestimate your students and to underestimate your effect on them;</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• Students will dam the Chicago River if you tell them it’s extra credit, but wouldn’t add a thimbleful of water if it’s an assignment;</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• As much as I wish it weren’t true, motivation comes from within;</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">• It might not be a bad idea to rethink the high school set-up so that everybody, from student to janitor to administration, can see the relevance and importance of what is being taught.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">For everything that has happened in the last fourteen weeks, I will never be able to thank my students, the best teachers I ever had, enough for what I learned.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-28552317991680712532008-03-31T13:59:00.003-05:002008-04-02T12:51:52.870-05:00Art Geek Does Sports, Nation Applauds<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I'm sitting in the stands, because who the hell stands if there are seats free right in front of them, thinking to myself: "a period is 20 minutes long? Wait, how many are there? Is hockey the one with three innings-sections-parts to it? Yeah, its gotta be.... Should I get a hot dog or an Italian beef?... Why do I know the name Tony </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Esposito</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">?...Yeah I'll get the Italian beef."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It isn't that I hate hockey or don't like sports necessarily. I'm from Texas so hockey didn't come up as often in conversation as that golden calf we call "football." High school, college, professional, whatever level it was, if it was football, it was discussed. But not by me. I didn't play, didn't want to play, and didn't really care. I asked loudly "who's Tom Landry?" while in a grocery store, and I think about half the men there wanted to kick my ass on principle. I just went a different path in my interests is all. While my peers built up rosters and stats in their memories I pursued the subjects that interested me the most: academics, drawing, self love, reading and playing video games for example.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">As I grew up I came to associate sports participants and fans with the moronic sacks of flesh that paraded around the halls of school to the confounding (to me anyways) adoration of the less imaginative. I just didn't get it. Until I moved to Chicago. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Something about this city is just infectious when it comes to sports. My first year here the </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sox</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> had their parade for winning the world series. I lived near Wrigley and witnessed the congestion caused by the mobs of blue clad fans. Memories of Michael Jordan commercials resurfaced to my mind. This is just a sports town. Despite my efforts to fight it, I was drawn in. I'll never remember the stats or the the full rosters but I recognize names. I actually knew most of the sports teams when the Hot Wheels (a die hard sports nut) quizzed me by city. I think I'm getting it. There is some kind of pride found in your team making it, some concerned support when they don't, and just the</span> <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">camaraderie</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> of those who agree with you is surprisingly nice.</span><br /><span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class="on down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I've gone to baseball games, more every year. But I'd never, NEVER, been to a hockey game, and I took the chance to finally go to one. It was damn fun. I don't exactly understand why Tony </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Esposito</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> was there since they retired his jersey in the early 80s, but I chanted with the rest. I may not have been as enthusiastic with the high fives and the ass patting going on around me (no means no <a href="http://joshhawkinsphoto.blogspot.com/">Asshole</a>), but any chance to make fun of funny sounding names and boo strangers from a safe distance (no throat slicing for me please) shouldn't be passed up. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">CUBS!! Check. </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Sox</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. Check. </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Blackhawks</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. Check. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Next up: Bulls and Bears with maybe a smack of Fire added.<br /><br />::GringO::<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-13008955974451917712008-03-20T08:29:00.005-05:002008-03-20T09:13:03.556-05:00Cheap Seats<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Last night, T<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">he GringO</span>, the </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://tinyurl.com/2szvxw">World's Biggest Asshole</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> and I went to watch the </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://tinyurl.com/32hnnb">'Hawks destroy the Caps 5-0</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">. It was a special night for me, since it was Tony Esposito night, and anyone who knows me knows that I am a goalie at heart; Tony-O, in particular, has a very special place in my life. I got to see him play only once; I was eight and he shut out the Flyers (at the time, my dad's second most-hated team). That game made want to be a goalie so bad. Forget Savvie's two goals and two assists, or Behn Wilson's epic pummeling of Dave Brown; I walked out of there inspired by 28 shots attempted and 28 saves made.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We sat in the cheap seats: SRO all the way! We had a great time; excellent view of the ice, and got to hang out with Berserker Bill, kicker of throats and crusher of uvulae, and the Trouble brothers, Sean and Dave, who </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://joshhawkinsphoto.blogspot.com/2008/03/another-night-out.html">TWBA hit in the nuts with his folding chair </a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">during the first five minutes of the game. I guess nobody puts baby in the corner...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Cheaps are great. You pay ten bucks and you hang out with great fans who know the game and the team as well as you do; you drink beer and you scream as loud as you can; you hurl obscenities at the opposing team because, in the cheaps, that is what you do. My favorites:</span><br /><br /><ul style="font-family: times new roman;"><li>"Ovechkin is a poor man's Pavel Bure!"- So spoke Dave and his sore testes.</li><li>"Ovechkin is Russian for 'foreskin!'" - I'm quite proud of that one!</li><li>"I don't care what happens on the ice, so long as someone KICKS HIM IN THE THROAT!" - Bill makes his mom proud with that one.</li></ul><span style="font-family:times new roman;">A truly fantastic evening. You should go; we could make asses of ourselves and just ride the wave of drunken, belligerent bliss that is an SRO hockey experience!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >-Zeepdoggie</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-58461652590567619772008-03-12T07:40:00.003-05:002008-03-20T09:12:38.519-05:00Working in some wrinkles<span style="font-family: times new roman;">Thanks to Viagra and Cialis, old folks homes are becoming hotbeds of iniquity. Right now, someone's grandma and grandpa are hoping the kids will just get the hell out of their rooms so that they can get to some righteous boning.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I imagine that doggy-style is the most popular position in the old folks home, what with the old ladies already bent double and everything. The old men must be thinking, “Thank God for osteoporosis!”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">-Zeepdoggie</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-91316922478524725582008-03-03T18:39:00.004-06:002008-03-31T13:59:11.342-05:00Thank You for Choosing Kite, You Sad Sad ManLast week I received my tax refund check, much to my delight. Large sums of money showing up in the mail for my personal benefit have a tendency to make me giddy for some strange reason. While throwing wads of cash here and there this past week I was reminded of my first refund check in Chicago. I had even written a journal entry about it, and that is what I'm sharing with you starting....now.<br /><br />4-18-06<br /><br />After a night of heavy drinking with Rolling Thunder I went to Hell today. A big boss is coming tomorrow so we had to stay until at least 10:30 recovering. In the midst of closing Irish <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">McDrunky</span> stopped by with Mike, a bartender from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">O'Neils</span>, to flip me off and indicate through subtle sign language that I should join them for a drink.<br />What followed was various varieties of spirits. I was somewhat snookered but Irish was gone, as he had been drinking for roughly 8 hours. His stagger was impressive, his speech only half intelligible and restraint practically nonexistent. While walking to the Red Line a homeless man with one eye approached and Irish flatly said "I'm a Republican. I pretend that you don't even exist." I thought this particularly humorous, even if he relived it 5 times afterward.<br />On the train we sat and chatted a bit, then he got off at Belmont. This girl came in, hands shaking, gaunt faced with a blank wide-eyed expression as she openly looked at me. As we began to move she pulled out a packet of Kite tobacco with rolling papers. She proceeded to roll 5 cigarettes within 4 or 5 stops. I simply stared in amazement as I had never seen someone hand roll anything. She tucked the last one behind her ear as we pulled into her stop, and when she left she left the packet.<br />I'm trying to quit smoking and haven't bought any cigarettes for around a week and hadn't smoked any for 2 days. Feeling the craving I snatched what I saw as free tobacco on my way out of the train car. When I got home I checked my mail and praise God, my refund check had arrived!<br />Craving a celebratory portion of substance and not having alcohol I decided to hand roll my first cigarettes. However, on inspecting the pouch I found there were no more papers. What to do? I looked down at the counter and saw an empty package of gum. The empty pack had spewed out some slips of the white paper that is wrapped around the sticks of gum, outside the foil. I determined these white slips were good enough.<br />Having never rolled joints myself all I had to go on was mimicking the girl on the train and Johnny <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Depp</span> interviews. I sprinkled some tobacco, folded over one side of the flap and tried to make a cigarette. Due to the paper's thickness and formally folded state the tube had angled sides instead of a clearly cylindrical form. I licked the sided of the remaining flap, trying to glue it down with my saliva, even though there was no adhesive strip on the paper like you would find on actual rolling papers. It barely worked but at least I had something. The sorriest looking cigarette ever.<br />I went outside to smoke it. I puffed on my hand fashioned monstrosity, noting the flavor of mentholated tobacco...and burning paper with just a hint of sophisticated watermelon (the gum flavor). The aftertaste was bitter and towards the end the smoke burned my throat and mouth.<br />Just stopping and actually thinking about what I was doing made me realize how sad and pathetic it really was. So I made one more then went to bed.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-12286451531934043572008-02-08T19:47:00.000-06:002008-02-08T19:48:55.177-06:00A Proud Moment<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The Whore, wait, no, THE FUCKING WHORE, contacted me via myspace. I was a ball of sinew, anxiety, rage, and indecisiveness. Should I talk to her and hear her out, like a big mature man? Should I unleash all the anger and pure black viscous hatred that has built up and congealed over the past two and a half years, tell her everthing I always wanted to? (see: I was hoping you were dead. You should lose your kids. You are a whore and a cunt. If I ever see you again I WILL spit in your face, and if I see your husband I will smash his face into a mass of pulp attached to a neck. You are evil....etc etc etc.)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">But what would be the benefit of either exchange really? She wouldn't let me finish a rampage of hate, and I wouldn't be willing to hear a single damn apology she offered. If that makes me a bitter foolish man then so be it, and I feel the better for it. Instead this is the only exchange I allowed (read from bottom to top for correct order, but the first thing you read is the most important anyway):</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I guessed as such but wanted to be certain. There are only three things I'm going to address:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">1) I hope your kids are healthy and happy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">2) I have absolutely no interest in the well being of you or the rest of your family.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">3) I have even less interest in hearing or reading what you have to say.<br /><br />::The GringO::<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-47764677418357035192008-01-31T06:35:00.000-06:002008-01-31T06:37:22.486-06:00<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I had movie popcorn with butter and now my hand smells like I finger-banged the Land O' Lakes squaw.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">::GringO::</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-4340620700053836272008-01-28T18:29:00.000-06:002008-01-28T18:35:10.915-06:00There is a name to my pain...and it is Bucky<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Tell me if you heard this one: a student sits in class, and s/he is bored. The lesson is not challenging; it’s just more of the same rigmarole that s/he has heard time and again. So the student, bright, bored and frustrated, acts out: s/he makes rude comments; the student wanders from his/her seat; s/he challenges the teacher’s authority with verbal jabs and by ignoring the lesson.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Sound familiar? We’ve all seen these kids in our classrooms; hell, some of us were those kids. I know I was.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Now you know that kid? Well, I have that kid’s opposite.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">There is a kid, whom I will call <a href="http://www.johnrozum.com/images/bucky.jpg">Bucky</a>, who is just about as dumb a person as I have met. I pity the dumb as I also envy them; they may not know what’s going on around them, but they seem happy that way and that’s fine, at least for them. Bucky is so dumb that he fucks up spacing out. If they gave out grades for lunch, Bucky would have an incomplete. Bucky is one more piece of proof that intelligence and jaw muscularity are directly proportional. Bucky drives me insane with his inability to think beyond the seven seconds his brain is currently failing to cope with. Bucky is failing P. E. for the third straight year. Bucky is so frustratingly ignorant and rude that I feel that I deserve sainthood for not wearing his blood like sloppily fitted crimson gloves. I find myself hoping, daydreaming, that Bucky tries something violent after school, so I can throw him into a trashcan so that he can begin his work on the rest of his life. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But I can’t do that. I am Bucky’s teacher, and while everyone else has given up on him (I’m not saying they’re wrong for doing so, mind you), I cannot. So I told him to meet with me after school so that we can discuss this day’s outburst and try to find reason and peace in the class. He didn’t show, and that’s a good thing, because then I didn’t have to face a moral quandary.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Had Bucky shown up, I would have tried to tell him that he can still make something of himself, and that high school is the last chance he would have to do so. I would have said that college is still a possibility for him, that he could achieve what he wanted, but only if he put his nose to the grindstone and worked with me and his other teachers; he could graduate with a GPA worth remembering.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Since he didn’t show up, I didn’t have to worry about lying to the little moron. Except for the GPA bit. I doubt anyone would forget a student who could win the James Blutarsky Award for Academic Embarrassment.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I think that what bothers me so much about Bucky is that he is the contradiction to what I am taught about students. What I am taught as a teaching student is that, no matter what, you don’t give up. You keep trying, reaching, and someday you’ll get through once you apply the perfect pedagogy to the student that was nearly custom fit for her/him. What I am seeing is that, once the students give up, it is almost impossible to get them back. There is no real extrinsic motivation; it’s all internal, and it’s all self-generated. I didn’t put out that fire, so I have no idea how to rekindle it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">That, and I have little patience for undeserved arrogance.<br /><br /><br />-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-18635850052559175902008-01-15T11:07:00.000-06:002008-01-15T11:15:16.985-06:00A Grand Bon Mot or Deux<span style="font-family:times new roman;">While hanging with <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The GringO</span>, a little nugget fell out of my mouth that lends yet more support to why we should have a podcast:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Z: What's he singing?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">G: "We're only a lifetime away" (in a very ugly falsetto)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Z: Wow. Deep. but not as deep as the asshole those lyrics were farted out of.<br /><br />"I tell ya, I can't think of a more humiliating and disgusting way to die than to be pierced by an interplanetary shit-sickle."<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">From whence that issued, many more as witty were spoken and forgotten. Admit it, you want to hear more.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-972089562675066442008-01-11T09:08:00.000-06:002008-01-11T09:11:26.182-06:00Closing the Door on '07<span style="font-family: times new roman;">Things I saw randomly walking around Chicago last year:</span><br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A raptor of some kind taking a pigeon in mid-flight;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A businessman shitting himself on the corner of Madison and Wacker;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A bunch of guys pretending to be Elvis to raise money for cystic fibrosis;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">One human finger;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">More than twenty used condoms in the street;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A young lady getting finger-banged on a tour boat;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The largest pile of dog shit I had ever seen (you could’ve lost a toddler in it);</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">More human excrement than I would ever care to see;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Two people trying to push open a pull door immediately after watching someone fail in the attempt;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A street performer falling in the middle of his dance routine;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A huge stack of AOL Installer disks (I had forgotten those even existed!);</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A Hipster boy, while trying to rearrange his package in those insanely skinny jeans, tearing a huge hole in the crotch of said ridiculous fashion trend, spilling his fake junk onto the sidewalk (I think it was a pair of socks);</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A kid suffering splash damage from a horse taking a crap (he cried and cried and I laughed and laughed; seriously, Mom, what are you doing letting your kid get that close to a horse’s browneye?);</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A woman in a fur coat shouting “I HAVE MACE!” to no one in particular;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Three rich white girls arguing about who was more “street;”</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Burned clothes surrounding the eternal flame in Daley Plaza.</span></li></ul>Wow, but I saw a lot of shit last year, often literally.<br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">What did you spot?</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-5746824206664863502008-01-09T21:47:00.000-06:002008-01-11T08:52:59.241-06:00Gayest Death Ever<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9jWqcwcT8ghRqx8cIP2u7AdO-BsO9Dd0RKuWfhIORxiV14nEQUUQgWPdDMCdn8cQ4GpJ8y9zCzRY0wf2B1tZcSRMzB-ZDL-VuxbStL_h2zaFZGcJnDS5QPagztCGk4MnhqOelA/s1600-h/Gayest+Death+Ever.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9jWqcwcT8ghRqx8cIP2u7AdO-BsO9Dd0RKuWfhIORxiV14nEQUUQgWPdDMCdn8cQ4GpJ8y9zCzRY0wf2B1tZcSRMzB-ZDL-VuxbStL_h2zaFZGcJnDS5QPagztCGk4MnhqOelA/s400/Gayest+Death+Ever.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154228030689230162" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A Brief (1) Explanation of This Drawing</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Having exhausted my supply of DVD’s I was able to stand watching yet again I knew I needed to do something to occupy my mind. Crosswords or Sudoku would require thought and effort to draw upon certain resources of my brain that I just did not feel like tapping. What to do then? Why not a drawing?</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Well, OK, a drawing, but what kind? I have made portraits for a long while and though laying out the muscle and skin wrapped around a skull, then altering the arrangement of said elements, is a challenge, after a while it becomes tiresome (2).<br /><br />Thus, with such thoughts and feelings I decided a figure drawing would be a nice challenge.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I prefer to draw female (3) figures, but as I do not possess a readily available and willing body of the feminine persuasion (4), my own masculine build would have to serve my needs. What kind of pose? How about walking with two objects being carried, one in each hand? (5)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The lighting was easy to arrange, the topless pose easily captured with a digital camera, and viewable as a drawing resource. I laid out the drawing in an outline only form. I stepped away, blinked, made a snarl-like face by raising the left side of my upper lip, thus also altering the position of my left nostril as well, while simultaneously raising my right eyebrow. This is the thought that produced such a facial expression: “Man, that looks gay.”(6)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Though I wanted to create a figure piece I knew this was one I would not want for myself. Then who would want it? Eureka! The CSM (7)! Why, I still owed him a drawing for the T.V. he gave me and a warming gift for his new apartment!</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This decided I went to work altering the body, making it even more intimidatingly testosterone injected than my own (8). I added a portion of lower body, also nude, complete with tasteful and subtle, yet accurate, genitalia (9).</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The body shaded in, I needed some type of head. But why make it a normal head?<br /><br />Then it occurred to me that the end of this month has a holiday commonly called Halloween, an English bastardization of the German Hallowe’en (10). Death! Blood! Pumpkins! Wait, no, just death! How about having a cowl emerge from the shoulder, a throwback to the image of the Grim Reaper who is bedecked in a black robe?</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“The Gayest Death Ever” (11) was thus completed. I hope you enjoy it.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Practical Information</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Created using charcoal (12) pencil on acid free sketch paper. It is a standard size suitable for cheap framing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">End Notes</span><br /><ol><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is not very brief actually. Quite long really, quite. </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Just as this writing style is tiresome.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A term used to describe the gender of the species that bears children (with the exception of the Sea Horse, in which species the father has the babies).</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Keeping someone against their will is apparently a crime.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Allow yourself to contemplate and decide for yourself what the objects are (though given the sexual preference of the intended recipient, I would nudge you toward a type of novelty phallus).</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“Gay" is the current slang vernacular used to describe homosexuality. It can be used in several ways in a sentence, be it noun, verb, or adjective. Other forms are possible though not as commonly used as these.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://wtf-zeepdoggie.blogspot.com/2006/08/brou-ha-ha.html%5C">CSM</a> refers to the pseudonym assigned to this friend by Zeepdoggie.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A great Challenge I assure you. I was once assigned “hottest bod” while standing in a group of third graders (13).</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Notice some slight indication of a dorsal vein, and pubic hair, the only kind this Death has oddly enough.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Absolutely true.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In light of this title perhaps the method would involve a severe act of sodomy using the tools of his trade (see (5)).</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is a substance commonly found beneath the topsoil of Earth. It is formed by the decomposition and of carbon-based plant life which is then buried and through time becomes compressed and is, atomically speaking, altered. It is worth note that coal is still used as a power source due to its combustibility which produces the energy to move turbines which provide power for electronic devices. The longer it has taken coal to form the cleaner it burns. Thus we find anthracite coal which in appearance and texture is similar to that of volcanic glass, though created in an entirely different process. If coal has been compressed long enough, with enough heat produced as well by said process, diamonds will form. Diamonds are the hardest of all natural minerals, as well as the most valuable (14).</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don’t ask.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you read all of that, I will laugh at you (15).</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">See (10)</span></li></ol> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">::GringO::</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-65225173610769528452007-12-25T17:06:00.000-06:002007-12-25T17:18:24.359-06:00OGDC and the Kids Tenders<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Typically one would expect a holiday themed entry on the day of Christmas, but the problem inherent is that you limit the relevance of the writing. Though stories of twinkling lights, epiphanies, gluttony, family, love, and gravity defying mammals all make good fare for writing, I’m going to write about something which is different yet, I feel, equally worthy: perversion.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My Dad has significant hearing loss in both ears. To allow him to enjoy watching television we put on the closed captioning. As the action occurs we get blocks of black with white letters across the screen, sometimes accurate, sometimes giving you reason to wonder if child labor is used in this capacity in Texas (I believe in a child’s right to work damn it!). Yesterday, Christmas Eve, some family members and I caught a boxing championship on some network. Sadly, closed captioning isn’t used to cover sounds as well, so no “thwaps” or “pffts” or “coo coo cachou.’ They did relate the commentary of announcers and officials. “He went at him like an octopus!” was one such line. Shortly later, the following words were said, but more importantly, printed on the screen: “He likes it when a guy comes in hard!”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Seeing the words allowed me to take them out of context in my mind and, like any self respecting man of intelligence, twist them into an entirely different meaning. You may think this is only my own immature, or rather quite powerful, ability to pervert innocent statements. But it wasn’t just me! My whole family laughed. We are all talented and imaginative.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was reminded of a few years ago when my sister and I discovered the joy of soundboards on the internet. We came across clips for a show which I will call “</span><em style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Oso</em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> in the </span><em style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Grande</em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Depressed </span><em style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Casa</em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">” to avoid issues with libel and such. OGDC was a children’s program combining actors donning fluffy costumes, puppetry and cheap animation. When looking at the sound clips that were available, every part of my being that loves to laugh tingled and my perverse sense of humor ejaculated forth from my hand onto the mouse, into the computer, and out of the speakers. Phrases of pure perverted gold trickled and dripped from my brain and I created many deliciously decadent statements. “Its too big Oso, it’s too big! Mgghhh!”, “Let me lick it Oso let me lick it!”, “I’m coming, I’m COMING!” and maybe a few others I can’t quite remember.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Some would say this is repulsive. I say it is alluring. Others would say they detest such perversion. I say lay back, open up, take a deep breath and just get ready to take it. Like it or not many people have a sense of humor. This is one of the best parts of a human personality. We may get shit on, things may not go as planned, and you can get red dots in places you don’t want (hypothetically speaking of course). Be it saintly or satanic, anything can be funny. After all if you can’t enjoy a menu item at a movie tavern called “Kids Tenders”* you can’t enjoy life.<br /><br />::GringO::</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">*Real menu item.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-27624277108448480582007-12-25T17:05:00.000-06:002007-12-25T17:16:10.201-06:00Christmas<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Seventeen weeks of planning, preparation, and perspiration<br /><br />Seventeen weeks of second-guessing, double-checking, and<br /><br />over-analyzing.<br /><br />Seventeen weeks of worry, and hope, and laughs, and reading and writing and stress and<br /><br />cramped muscles and headaches.<br /><br />Seventeen weeks of running from the Blue Line to Lincoln Hall so as to never be late.<br /><br />Seventeen weeks of driving Gring</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">O and <a href="http://joshhawkinsphoto.blogspot.com/">The World’s Biggest Asshole</a> mad<br /><br />with my schemes and my fretting.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><br /><br />Seventeen weeks, waiting for this.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTYyJLdf-8pGwAGOXlGKCW25FIUyMnTm0zo2zYhml3xzCftmOdabpQIzeMI_gg_GliieqnctGWkds2ztVQOKdyjUBFEsDpM33Xi2PhngHJ0tkSgJI-rpbTy4VI64FzTt14sXgYg/s1600-h/Aimee+%26+Me+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTYyJLdf-8pGwAGOXlGKCW25FIUyMnTm0zo2zYhml3xzCftmOdabpQIzeMI_gg_GliieqnctGWkds2ztVQOKdyjUBFEsDpM33Xi2PhngHJ0tkSgJI-rpbTy4VI64FzTt14sXgYg/s200/Aimee+%26+Me+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148051155605089890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><br />Plan A: 27 August 2007 – 23 December 2007</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">As the guy no one elected but is still the President would say, “Mission Accomplished.”</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie<br /><br />Mad ups to the Crunk Monk Mafia and to The GringO and TWBA for all their support. Without you...<br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-70202738376319695632007-12-12T03:40:00.001-06:002007-12-12T03:40:44.250-06:00New School......new banner. Look at banner, person!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-91614714834707557042007-12-12T03:39:00.001-06:002007-12-12T03:39:51.621-06:00Old School...We kill everything. Even expectations.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-16672362734573151342007-12-11T22:05:00.000-06:002007-12-11T22:12:46.725-06:00Look What I Can Do!<span style="font-family: times new roman;">Several things I am oddly proud of:</span><br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I can grow a great goatee;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I somehow attract extremely <a href="http://joshhawkins.com/">talented</a> <a href="ttp://su5ieq.blogspot.com/">artists </a>into my circle of friends;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My ability to leave a skidmark after even the most vigorous, industrious flushes;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That I always have a nugget of information about obscure topics;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My death metal vocal stylings;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My encyclopedic knowledge of the psychologies and philosophies of comic book characters;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I have never completed any writings of James Joyce;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That I make people laugh with inappropriate comments;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That no one can insult me as well as I can;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My belches are both sonorous and have surprising longevity;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That I can enjoy with equal fervor Spice Girls and Slayer, especially one after the other;</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I have expressive eyebrows.</span></li></ul><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">So, whaddaya got?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-58770401520788246812007-12-10T22:58:00.000-06:002007-12-10T23:00:46.626-06:00Having sex with a pregnant woman bears a 50% chance of me nailing two chicas at once.<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >-Zeepdoggie</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">thanks, cookie!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-48124487444450299122007-12-05T10:44:00.001-06:002007-12-05T11:06:54.312-06:00Mmm...boot leather<span style="font-family: times new roman;">I was working in Hell on Sunday when I did the unthinkable, the unrecoverable, the unforgivable, but yet still understandable, most feared act in all of customer service.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A rather bulky gentleman was looking through a table of shitty clothes that I had just folded, in the men's department, checking for sizes and such. I was annoyed so I walked over and said, to his back, "May I help you, sir?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">And he turned and stared at me. So I smiled and said, "Do you need any help, sir?" And he continued to stare. I stared back. Insert sound effect from Tom & Jerry of two piano keys corresponding to blinks.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">And then I smelled what I was stepping in.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">"I mean, ma'am?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;">SHE</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> continued to stare, and I felt her piggy little eyes boring into my back as I walked away.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">When I revealed what I did to Wonder Woman, the coworker in closest proximity, she said, "Do you think you'll get fired?" And I thought about it. I have said some really bizarre and belligerent shit to both customers and staff while in my tenure at Hell, but I had yet to fully mistake someone's gender. At least, out loud.</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> So I answered, "Well, no, because I think that it's neither the worst thing I have ever said here and that I am most likely not alone in thinking that </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">SHE'S </span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">a dude."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Two points in my defense: I have had gender differentiation issues before. I remember thinking that RuPaul was one hot cup of chocolate when he broke on the scene. I was twenty, what the fuck did I know? And the person </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">SHE</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> most resembled is this guy, from the back </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">and</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> the front:</span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhMQDfHxtjU_rRjMDsJyli_bcLKRS-cvILisM4b92Tt1yCmIGnrww7yyOBKWC5XyGq_RKV1rze2yZw_l8mMZHo1xSEwjf0NVCTBXxV_C51gZpdXbByAlwX6eHlkLMS5MPITMSpA/s1600-h/John+Madden.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhMQDfHxtjU_rRjMDsJyli_bcLKRS-cvILisM4b92Tt1yCmIGnrww7yyOBKWC5XyGq_RKV1rze2yZw_l8mMZHo1xSEwjf0NVCTBXxV_C51gZpdXbByAlwX6eHlkLMS5MPITMSpA/s320/John+Madden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140533622172716082" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I challenge anyone to be able to tell me a dude is not a dude when said individual looks like Mr. Color Commentary himself. </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">SHE </span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">even had the haircut.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Thanks to the growing demographic of bull-dike lesbians shopping at the store, it will most likely happen again. And you know what? It will be just as funny then, too.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;">Zeepdoggie</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-48146514050520201612007-11-26T21:48:00.000-06:002007-11-26T21:50:10.297-06:00The Last Time..<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I saw a pussy, it was a black cat crossing my path.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">::The GringO::</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-1077870670041675272007-11-23T20:33:00.000-06:002007-11-22T20:40:23.130-06:00Deja Vu<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Happy Thanksgiving, bitches!<br /><br />I had the same conversation with two very different people, <a href="http://joshhawkinsphoto.blogspot.com/">The World's Biggest Asshole</a> and my sister Pinky, in the last 48 hours. It went like </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">this:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The World's Biggest Asshole/Pinky: “We know what Plan A stands for.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Z: “Yup.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“So what’s Plan B?”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Boobs.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“And Plan C?”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Plan C stands for ‘crazy!’”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Enjoy today, for while we feast, it is genocide for the turkey.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-40901807931391707732007-11-22T08:03:00.000-06:002007-11-22T08:08:18.694-06:00Naughty Thoughts<span style="font-family: times new roman;">After a long hiatus from thinking dirty, I recently had several epiphanies concerning my most favored of subjects.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I can think of a lot of good reasons to date a teacher; the first on my mind is the potential pillow talk.</span><br /><ul style="font-family: times new roman;"><li> “The more you fool around, the longer we’ll be here.”</li><li> “You’re not going anywhere until you finish your work!”</li><li> “How does that make you feel?”</li><li> “You’ll just have to keep doing that until you get it perfected.”</li><li> “You’re behaving like an animal!”</li><li> “You did a great job!”</li><li> “Now, for <span style="font-style: italic;">extra credit</span>…”</li></ul><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Well, it’s got to beat lawyers any day.</span><br /><ul style="font-family: times new roman;"><li> “Were you injured in an accident?”</li><li> “Prior bad acts are admissible in your case.”</li><li> “Objection!”</li></ul><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A little FYI for the ladies & guys with a penchant to fellate: with a cock in your mouth, your dirty talk sounds like “aaaoowwww,” like you’re romancing a sexy puppy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It’s a good thing I like pale skin, cuz if I didn’t then my masturbating in front of the mirror would be creepy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-5039564912042777092007-11-21T22:11:00.000-06:002007-11-21T22:23:54.446-06:00Radioheadache<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Radiohead sucks. Why should I be interested in the music and lyrics when Thom Yorke is clearly bored with them? Seriously, the guy sounds like he’s doing all this stuff because he’s been told he can’t go back to sleep until he’s finished recording.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />(Scene: some recording studio in England. Weather forecast is misery with a chance of mildewed melancholy, winds from the sad at forty tears per hour)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “Thom? Thom. Thom!” (kicks couch)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> zzznnnrrrraggRRAGAgSNORT! “What, for fuck’s sake?”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “Sing the song, mate!”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “What, again?”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “Yeah; it takes more than one song to make an album.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “All right, but one take and then I’m going back to bed.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “Fine. Put your pants* on, Thom.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> “Jesus Christ, but you are a needy bugger, yeah?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I just don't get the appeal of slow, offbeat musical drudgery with groggily atonal whining serving as 'singing.' Maybe I'm too American to understand. Or maybe I like to look at the sky instead of my shoelaces; maybe I live in my space instead of on MySpace; maybe I like to be entertained and not bored, especially if I am paying for it; maybe I don't confuse emotional disorders with genius; maybe I think life can actually be a lot of fun every once in a while, and that music can, and sometimes should, reflect that.<br /><br />Or maybe they really do suck and a lot of people are deluding themselves for reasons that I cannot understand.<br /><br />I like to give my readers options.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">-</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Zeepdoggie</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">*Yes, I do know what ‘pants’ are in England.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24029216.post-84985622196630530502007-11-17T08:10:00.000-06:002007-11-17T08:38:37.269-06:00Use the Force, Zeep<span style="font-family: times new roman;">The Light Side</span><br /><span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class="on down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"></span></span><br /><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The ‘Hawks are doing well.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My pull box at <a href="http://www.darktowercomics.net/">Dark Tower</a> has produced nothing but amazing comic books.</span></li><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Whedon and Cassaday’s X-Men story continues to be the best I’ve read (<a href="http://www.marvel.com/digitalcomics/titles/ASTONISHING_X-MEN.2004.1">here’s a sample,</a> but be cautious; this may make you like comics!), the new Thor and Atom are great, and Mouse Guard is simply stunning. If you don't like comics, check out <a href="http://www.mouseguard.net/">Mouse Guard.</a><br /></span></li></ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Speaking of Joss Whedon, he will have a <a href="http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117975136.html?categoryid=1237&cs=1%20%3Chttp://www.variety.com/article/VR1117975136.html?categoryid=1237&cs=1%3E">new show</a> soon once the networks and other idiots give the writers what they deserve. While reality TV may seem like a good idea, that’s just because most shows aren’t written by Aaron Sorkin, Thomas Schlamme, or Joss Whedon.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Both women I am pursuing are showing enough interest in me to keep me interested.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I know<a href="http://www.kungfaux.com/"> Kung Faux.</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I am still working on the boats, and I am still loving it. I am the Deck Monkey!<br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My co-teachings/observations are going great, confirming that all the bullshit I have put up with from UIC’s Council on Teacher Education has so far been worth it.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ve made some friends that I really hope to have for the rest of my life. Crunk Monk Mafia holla!</span></li><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I have spent more time with my old friends recently than I have in the previous months, so the friends front is going very well.</span></li></ul></ul><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The Dark Side</span><br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I need to get serious about grocery shopping.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ve reawakened my coffee addiction.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Since both women are showing interest, I cannot just move on one.</span></li><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">This might not be a bad thing, since it will force me to do the friendship first thing, which I wanted to do anyway. And it's probably best to wait until the end of the semester. But now I walk a keen edge, and my balance isn't all that good…</span></li></ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The Bears are sucking like a Thai whore with a fifty spit-taped to her forehead.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">CTE’s bullshit is still bullshit.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I still work in Hell.</span></li><ul><li><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The boats won't go year 'round, and since I need the cash to woo the ladies and pay bills and whatnot, I must take more hours in Hell in order to make ends meet.<br /></span></li></ul></ul><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The dark side will always be defeated by the light side, because bad is dumb. Shitty paraphrase, I know, but fuck it, I am in a good mood for once; let me enjoy it while it lasts.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">-<span style="font-style: italic;">Zeepdoggie<br /><br />two posts in one day! how lucky are you? very lucky, indeed. if only gringo would get off of his dead ass and write something. -z.<br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><embed allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://cutecaps.ning.com/static/flash/vertical_cutecaps.swf?app=cutecaps&xn_auth=no" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="143" height="237" name="cutecaps" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" /></div>Zeepdoggie & GringOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09888429143721610530noreply@blogger.com0