InfiniteImprobability

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Musicians as Art

Uggg...posted it to the wrong board. Take a look here...

Friday, June 29, 2007

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

Imagine you had the opportunity to start a new career.
Be anything you wanted to be.
Do anything you ever dreamed.

There are only a few rules:
1) You get 20 hours a week to work at it.
2) Within 6 months you have to be earning a partial living, let's use $1,000 a month.
3) You can spend up to $500 starting your new career.

What would you do? Would you create your dream job? Would you work for yourself or someone else? Would you do anything at all or just carry on the status quo?

If I had the same opportunity what would you suggest I do?

Thursday, November 10, 2005

When your brain gives out. . .

Working round the clock right now. My brain is complete mush and not the good wow-what-a-party kind of mush either. Was just about at the breaking point yesterday, staring over the edge into that mental abyss where your head says 'That's enough. You need a break so I'm shutting down.' You know, where you drive to school to pick up the kids and halfway home you start thinking did I run that stop sign earlier? Did I close the garage door when I left? Crap, did I pick up the right kids? Twenty minutes of your life is gone, not missing, no, it was never even there. Automatic motor reflexes got you through the journey while your frontal lobes lay face down in a Reynosa drainage ditch.

Following the cranial whiplash there is that awkwardly comforting realization that those are the fruit of your loins in the backseat. Reality slaps you with the sinking feeling that something is off kilter and it's best you take a long nap. Then what pray tell do I hear? What is the first coherent noise to filter through? Chris Smither. . .
"The why we'll never know, we passed that long ago. Is and was is all we're ever gonna be."
I can't be sure, but I believe fluid is building up on my spinal cord.

Friday, April 01, 2005

The Center of Attention

I want one of those old style fire alarms, the glass case with the little hammer. And inside it I want a picture of Jessie Jackson. The label on it will be
"In case of moral outrage break glass"

Friday, March 04, 2005

Recessive Packing Gene

We've rented a camper for the weekend. A nice chance to get out from behind the keyboard and spend some time outdoors with my wife and two kids. I used to go camping with one backpack, now it takes a quad-cab pickup with the bed fully loaded and a 14 utility trailer to haul all the crap for a 2 night rental. You want funding for mapping the human genome? Just promise you'll find out what it is about a Y chromosome that requires 5 pair of socks, per person, for a two day trip! Case in point, Gilligan, the Skipper and the Professor, they wore the same clothes every episode for 3 seasons. Mr. Howell was married, he had 14 smoking jackets for a three hour tour.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

New Sites Announcement

Two new websites open for business .....

MyMoondrops.com sells Baby & Youth Furniture and features the famous "Silver Cross Prams & Strollers"!!

Magrathea Bonsai has great Bonsai Trees and accessories.


MyMoondrops.com also has Alta Baby cribs, matching changing tables, All Things Creative round cribs, and Shermag Gliders. Treat your children like royalty with wonderful custom and eligant furniture.

Bonsai from Magrathea Bonsai will give you a little bit of Zen from this ancient Eastern Artform. Add the beauty of nature to your workspace or home with a meditative Bonsai tree, fountain or dish garden.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Strong Enough for a Man. . .

"Secret. The strongest deodorant you can get without a prescription."

I'm seeing multiple problems with this new commercial.
1) Can you actually get PRESCRIPTION deodorant?!?!?
2) If you need a deodorant that strong I have a hard time believing it would be a "Secret".
3) They are advertising on Comedy Central, which really makes me wonder about their demographic, of which I'm a part.
4) Just when I'd gotten over not being happy with my bust size and taken a walk on the beach with my mother to talk about that not-so-fresh feeling they hit me with this. How do you know when you need a deodorant this strong or when you need a prescription?

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Word of the Day

Today's word is "sphincterburst". Construct 2 sentences using this word.
One sentence shall use the word as a noun, the second using it as an
adjective. Additions of prefixes and/or suffixes is encouraged.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

Barbies WetDream House

His thumb twitched. Twitched. Twitched. Then stopped mid-twitch. There it was! Our little man inched forward on the couch cushion and watched. He had caught it just in time, right as his thumb surfed on to the next monotonous channel. Barbie. The oldest perpetual propaganda from the Yuppie hoards. Get ‘em while they’re young. Seduce them with the Dream House, then reel them in with the Corvette. Hell, a few years ago they were so blatant that they gave Ken and his silicon-enhanced honey credit cards. Only in America. . . The little man knew good and well that his children were never going to be allowed to play with credit card carrying dolls that promoted such a lavish lifestyle. Of course that assumed that one day he’d be allowed to breed.

The commercial ended and he smiled quietly to himself. If anyone had seen the corners of his mouth curl upward in pure self-satisfaction they would have called it a smirk. He preferred “smile” as to not seem to uppity. So he smiled and mentally gave a high-five to all the assorted voices now celebrating a small, but long awaited victory. Patting himself on the back, literally, he congratulated himself on being right. And on being double jointed.

Barbie had always played it pretty cool. Nice tight skirt and heels when Ken was coming over. Sunbathing together on the House Boat, dancing at her Disco. But Ken. . . Ken was a dead give away. Always dressed just right, well groomed, kept the house really clean. He was just a little too good looking. The little man always thought it was odd that Ken never went fishing or hunting with the guys. He never showed up drunk at the Dream House trying to talk Barbie and Skipper into a three-way. A lot of people had come out of the closet in the little man’s life, so he new the signs and Ken’s was large, flashing and neon. The final proof that Ken was riding side saddle came when he started spending an inordinate amount of time hanging around the Command Post waiting for GI Joe to come riding in, all hot and sweaty from the life of a mercenary. That was the military for you. Them and their “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy. Like Joe really needed Kung Fo Grip when he had a rocket launcher. A blush spread across the little man’s unshaven cheeks as he imagined Joe demonstrating his new talent to Ken behind the mess tent.

Ken was a flamer, but Barbie? He should have known. The anorexic thing hopped on every trend that hit the cover of Cosmo. So if bumpin fuzzies with your best friend was all the rage you can bet she’ll be wearing flannel and listening to The Indigo Girls. That was all fine but why did she have to flaunt it in public? Our little man didn’t need to know which side she buttered her bread on. He was quite content to live in a world where the only dolls with sex lives had a valve stem in the back of their neck. But no. Mattel had to go and mess up his world with a dose of reality. There it was, Barbie’s condo. Kitchen, bath, living room and one bedroom. What’s that? He smiled again. There’s Barbie, her flat chested friend Skipper, and Stacey (the illegitimate love child of whom?). But only a crib for Stacey and one bed. Hmmm. . . something smells fishy. Maybe his overactive imagination had seen too many Doublemint commercials but the little man had definite ideas about what two attractive woman would do on those long cold nights with only one bed. So there it was. Barbie had been educating the children of the world for decades and now it had come to this. Lesbianism 101. The little man twitched on to the next channel and smiled, what did it matter, Ken wasn’t getting any anyway.

Sunday, March 28, 2004

InfiniteImprobability

Asked by Anonymous,

"What's with the name????"

What a fine question. You, sir, are to be commended on such a
thoughtful and concise query with regards to the origination of
a seemingly disjoined and illusory naming of this vacuous and
vagus website. I think I can explicate it thusly:

Mr. Sven Olafson, the ex-Norwegian Minster of Finance, once said
to me, "Excuse me, but you're standing on my toe." I never forgot
that, and to this day I think back fondly at that meeting and I
tear up at the memory of the majestic fjords and thrill of bicycling
across the North Sea (though I do terribly regret that unfortunate
incident with Inga and her seeing-eye Moose). What's most important
to remember though is that most of the cheese in Norway is actually
imported! It was there, at the airport (while refueling my dirigible),
that I came upon a radical splitter faction of the Zen-Buddist Cult of
Surrealist-Existentialism and I gained a remarkable sense of clarity
due to a fortuitous fall down the escalator. After my awakening from
a coma and the subsequent deportation to Uraguay, I entered the
business of exporting Monkey Parts and Monkey Part related tools,
books, videos and accessories. I fathered 3 children by 4 wives and
promptly thereafter went out for cigarettes. There was a shortage of
petrol (that's what they call gasoline there) and many entrepreneurs
were modifying Vespas to run on goat's milk. In the streets, a sense
of excitement and gunpowder was in the air, not related at all to the
many incidences of spontaneous human combustion, which have since
be attributed to bat guano in a popular brand of skin cream. Because
of my fondness for cursing in haiku, I had to flee when the indigenous
population rose up and became Amish. It was about that time that I
realized I like most Mexican food, but not the kind that is really,
really spicey. Rene DesCarte's involvement in this treachery should
not be discounted. I know this to be true because the I Ching told me
so. The clouds are dark and menacing but they bring needed rain and
clearer skies follow them; they're not only ribbed for her pleasure,
but they also give you better traction. Soon after a breakfast of
english muffins, I toured the countryside in a basket slung over the
shoulders of the local Mayan Priest, his name was Phil and he smelt
of bong water and llama feces. Our discussion of non-stoichiometry
compensated covalence bonds in titanium and iron was a welcome
distraction from the chafing of the reed basket and the incessant
flatulance (for which I apologized profusely). After our 14 day trek
to the top of the mountain, we grilled beets and creamed corn and
reveled in the fact that we're not French. It was somewhere along the
journey back that I had fallen and broken my sphincter. I stayed at
the monastery another 3 months studying the ancient art of gravel
arranging. The monks earned their living by training Barking Tree
Frogs to do menial household chores and by being struck by tourists
driving rental cars. Juan Valdez is not a real person but a composite
of not well known Columbian coffee bean pickers. But after awhile it
gets kind of annoying since they put way too much pepper on everything.
Since I was out of clean underwear, I decided it best to walk home.

So, you see, InfiniteImprobability was an obvious choice.