Can limes be recycled?

Well I assume it’s from the pop culture. You know how sometimes you go to lift weights and it’s sort of like a hazy dream?

And that might have something to do with the previous night’s overindulgence in egg nog?

And then you hear something like,” Be happy about whatever you have to be happy about” and then you think about that a bit later and you wonder if it was from a song on the radio, something someone was muttering as they walked past you, or something that you made up?

Anyway it seems like good advice to me. Wherever it comes from.

It’s actually good that I tried to warm up the truck this morning, burning through the last of the gas. Because I’d rather be at home with no gas than on the road with no gas.

And obviously the fuel gauge is of no use to people like me.

So I went to work in my trusty Tiger car which has never let me down. On my way home in my trusty Tiger car which has never let me down, I stopped to get some gas for the truck.

But this stupid square gas can would not let out the last full liter of gas. Not into the gas tank, anyway. I know it was a full liter because it filled the wine bottle. Which was the only bottle in the house. Typical.

Of course I could have used it to start fires, I suppose. But I am a mild-mannered information architect and art student, not an arsonist. I just don’t light fires with extra gas. I use it to power my gazz-guzzling vehicular transportational device.

Unfortunately, by this point I had filled the 15 gallon tank of my truck.

So I decided to put the extra gas in my trusty Tiger car.

Which has never let me down.

This choice item is hanging in my office. But I did not create it.

I do love it though.

With your host, Stupid Kevin.

Me: Would you like to hear the stupidest thing ever?
Innernets: YES.
Me: It is a cold, cold morning.
I: Yes. 16 degreez.
Me: So cold your hair freezes when you go outside.
I: Yep.
Me: So you think- I am going to heat up the car before my 2 mile drive to work. Right. It’s only 5 minutes, you think. Then in the 15 minutes it takes you to get out the door, the car runs out of gas. But- it is nice and toasty because the heater is now running on the battery.

What is the moral of this story?

Dear Downstairs Neighbor,

I have stood by you through the endless piano/cello duets, through the endless Bach and finger exercises after you broke up with your cello playing boyfriend, and through the frankly misanthropic attempts to play show tunes from memory at all hours of the day and night.

And yes, I am guilty of playing the show tunes you attempt to play from memory. And the Christmas carols. And Rocky Horror. So complaining about that is neither here nor there. But.

Playing the recorder at 12:20 AM?

You go too far, downstairs neighbor. Obviously, this means war.

Sincerely,

Kevin Inman
Upstairs Neighbor,
Concerned Citizen,
And Person of Discerning Muscial Taste

We made Christmas cookies tonight.

This composition is entitled Popeyed Bikini Woman Walks Dog in Sweater.

Dingbat: I don’t mean to be blasphemous or anything… but doesn’t it look like Christ is flipping us off?
Art History Teacher: My guess is that for Holbein… that was not an intended meaning.

CAN MY FRIEND WHO OWNS A TOYOTA ALSO PARTICIPATE?
Only if he or she rides in your Jeep 4×4! Jeep Jamborees are strictly for Jeep 4x4s. No exceptions.

Harsh, isn’t it?

Of course, who wants to go on group offroad outings with a bunch of nutty jeep owners anyway?

I was trying to get everyone to pose for a photo re: winter preparedness.

4 WD vehicle capable of surviving the Starbucks parking lot, dogs in coats, etc.

You can see how it went.

Starbucks Parking Lot: 0
Rock Crawling 4 Runner: 1

Did not bottom out!!! Ah, the possibilities. Now I can support coffee megacorporations every day!

Until you crank up the V-6 and zoom/rattle down the road with some Shakira.

Which I am going to go do now. For possibly the first time in recorded history I am excited to be helping someone move.

Because yesterday I bought this truck. Then I drove around all afternoon, loading everything in the truck from lumber to boxes of wine, to young prostitutes and hitchhiking nuns. There was plenty of space.

I’m a truck lover. I love loading things in the truck, flexing my brawny muscles, and then driving around. YeeHaw. I know, I know, get a hobby.

Now I am going to attempt the greatest feat known to man: I am going to drive out of the Starbucks parking lot in Blacksburg. Will the 32 inch wheels defeat the 45 degree angle between the parking lot and the road? Will the rock guard come into contact with the street?

Wait and see, Dear Reader. Wait and see.

Further updates on this gripping early Saturday morning experience as they become available.

Doesn’t writing papers just make you want to scream with boredom and ennui?

It does me.

Depictions of Masculinity.

In Renaissance Italyity.

This paper’s a snooze.

Bring booze.

These books weigh 35 pounds.

Zounds!

Do you ever feel like the world is ganging up on Titanium White? No?

Sometimes I feel this way and on those days I like to wear my Team Titanium T-shirt. Available in many attractive sizes and colors. Or, at least, in white size large.

Today was one of those days. I was innocently in the painting studio class, painting away at various landscapes, still lifes, and so on, and was informed that Titanium, Color of Colors, kills the hues of all colors it is mixed with. No!

This reminds me of the first time I bought oil paint. Prepare yourselves for a long and improbable story.

I was in Spain and had lived there approximately 1 month. I wanted a change, baby. No more acrylic for me.

Spanish stores are the old fashioned kind where everything is behind glass and some sneering shop keeper demands to know what you want and then might or might not get it for you depending how many pushy old ladies try to get in line ahead of you. Well, not every store is this way. But the paint store was.

So was the cheese store. And in the US, the dairy industry is only viable because of the demand for cheese used in pizza. Or so they* tell me.

None of this is relevant.

So I approached it warily. A skinny smoking woman was behind the counter. A Spaniard. Her name was most likely Maria. Let us think of her as Maria in any case.

So I ordered some paint and then I asked for some turpentine.

Sample conversation re: Turpentine in Spain (translated from the Spanish)
Me: And also Turpentine. But preferably the kind that won’t kill me.
Maria: That won’t kill you? With a pistol? HA HA HA (makes guns with hands and shoots me)

Then she gave me regular turpentine, well in fact I have no idea what she gave me. The kind that’s highly toxic but which does not have a pistol, presumably.

So this Turpentine was basically the Titanium White of paint thinners, a sly mass murderer, and I would just like to salute all the paintings I did in my closet sized bedroom, and also the anger of my host family when I opened the window in the dead of winter so as to not suffer brain damage from the fumes.

What brain, you might well ask?

There’s no smart in art, as I always say.

What’s the difference, it’s not like we had heat! We really didn’t.

To the memory of Turpentine past:

Manifesto Re: Titanium White

I would like to take this opportunity to affirm my dedication to Titanium, not just as a color of paint, but as a lifestyle.

I live Titanium.

And I would like to see anyone try to stop me.

*the vet students

I realize this is a stupid title for a post and I do not think Dracula ever said that- though let me assure you, Gentle Reader, that he should have. In fact, let us have him say it now:

Sample Conversation Re: I Vant Your Vlood

Dracula: I Vant Your Vlood
Me: You cannot have it, I have pledged it to the American Red Cross.
Dracula: Vell I Vant Your Vlood Anyway
Me: Oh fine, it’s bound to be quicker.

Which is of course true. The benefit to giving blood to society is tremendous. I am O-Negative, so I am a universal donor. (Applause) And plus I can feel smug. The lesson: Give blood!

I digress. The benefit to me in giving blood is basically a free tshirt (usually Xtra large- aka- way too big) but more importantly free pizza.

There is no time benefit in giving blood unless your job gives you paid leave. Which my old job did actually. Before when I worked full-time. I digress. Again.

Well this time as I was waiting an unreasonably long time for the harassed nurse in hot pink cargo pocket scrubs- in other words, the well dressed, harassed nurse- the two volunteers at the front desk finished the pizza – even though it was 5:45 and when I would be done around 6:30 obviously that would be dinnertime… and a perfect time for pizza. But it was not to be. And so I killed them.

Which is the perfect end to any story, except of course it is not true as I am a peaceable and well mannered contributor to society. I am the sort of person who universally donates blood; I am the sort of person who feeds the cat when it is hungry; I am not one to kill people over pizza. But it was still wrong of them to do it, just as it was wrong of them to put in so much hair wax this morning, or yesterday, or last week, or whenever it was they last showered.

The moral of this lesson is twofold: first, give blood. Second, do not begrudge the pizza eaten by hair wax prone red cross volunteers.

The moral of this story is also to be vigilant. Needless to say, had I realized that they were eating the LAST of the pizza, instead of SOME of the plentiful pizza, I would have walked over and asserted myself by snatching it out of their fat, greedy fingers. I would have explained patiently that the pizza is for the good people, the virtuous people, the people like me who take time out of my day to give blood to save the economy and make the world safe for freedom- and not for lazy Red Cross Volunteers.

So to recap. Let us make a note of the following life lessons:

1. give blood
2. don’t bear grudges
3. be vigilant
4. when it comes to pizza it is every wo/man for him/herself

Also, happy Columbus Day! So began an exciting time of cultural collision and epidemic disease. Or something like that.

And, happy birthday to my dad!