Amoeblog

(Be sure to wear flowers in your hair.)

Posted by Job O Brother, March 11, 2014 01:55pm | Post a Comment
san francisco map
(Look close – I'm the guy in the green shirt next to the building.)


I recently returned from a week-long stay in San Francisco.

Now, before you jump to conclusions that’ll confuse matters as I continue on with my story about San Fran, (yes, there’s even more to the story!) it’s important to clarify I was in San Francisco, California – not, I repeat not, San Francisco, Córdoba.

Okay? I just saved you from asking a bunch of inappropriate questions about whether I heard any good cuarteto while away, plus making embarrassingly irrelevant jokes about “getting a dolor de la panza from eating too much Cabsha Alfajores de Dulce de Leche Cubierto con Chocolate.” I know you too well, dear reader! You and your assumptions.

San Francisco, California is located roughly 3,670 miles south-west of Prince Edward Island, but don’t confuse the two – only one of these locations was watered with the many tears of the Mi’kmaq people and named after a British royal who was no fun at drinking-games.

Mi’kmaq couple
Hint: This couple never went to a Giants game.

Continue reading...

(Wherein I begrudgingly mumble the Body Electric.)

Posted by Job O Brother, February 25, 2014 10:07am | Post a Comment

exercise is fucked
Bollocks.


I hope you won’t think less of me, dear reader, but I’ve started going to the gym regularly. But wait – it gets worse – I’ve been going there to exercise.

I realize this sort of behavior doesn’t gracefully jive with my established persona; I live my life and make choices guided by the principle: What would Mrs. Dalloway do if Laurie Anderson was scripting her fate? If someone’s going to cast an actor to play me in a film, I aspire for the obvious choice to be Liv Ullman, or – if the film’s merely going to focus on my nervous breakdown, circa 1996 – Mink Stole, please.

Mink Stole
"I can neither live with this crushing depression, nor tolerate anymore cheap, turquoise jewelry."
- Mink Stole as the author in his early 20s


None of these women would be caught dead wearing the sweatpants and V-neck undershirt I don for my workout routine, nor subject themselves to my Sisyphean Stairmaster set – though the look on my face when I approach the scale in the men’s locker-room does, I think, parallel certain expressions Ms. Ullman crafted in some of the darker scenes of Ansikte mot Ansikte.

Continue reading...

(In which we actually exist!)

Posted by Job O Brother, February 18, 2014 02:05pm | Post a Comment
elvis presley youngadolf hitlerjimmy hoffaletterman jacket
Was (Not Was?): Elvis Presley, Hitler's brain, Jimmy Hoffa, the author


You guys, I’m not dead. I know – like I’d ever get that lucky!

It’s been around 8,888 years since my last post here on the Amoeblog (give or take 8,888 years), which begs the question: What have I been doing?

Well, maybe it doesn’t beg the question. Maybe it just prompts you to politely inquire so I don’t feel unwanted and insecure. I’ll take it! Beggars can’t be choosers.

Actually, that’s not factual. Beggars can be choosers. In fact, it’s in a beggar’s best interest to consciously prioritize a great many things the rest of us FANTASTICALLY WEALTHY people take for granted.

For example: I’m often faced with a choice between whether I want to buy organic cilantro, versus non-organic cilantro. While I normally prefer organic produce, cilantro raised without chemical black magic is, in my experience, always filthy – and not “Oh, this potato needs to be rinsed first” dirty; organic cilantro requires a scrubbing akin to a Karen Silkwood workplace shower, which the culinary herb’s delicate leaves do not endure well.

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Walrus Day, 2013!

Posted by Job O Brother, October 8, 2013 08:31am | Post a Comment
walrus day
H
APPY WALRUS DAY, EARTHLINGS!

Kiss someone handsome, eat something tastier than it is healthy, learn a new word that will impress your enemies, crank up the song that makes you feel you could conquer the world, wear the shirt you wear to get stares, call out sick for work or school or meetings or anything that will force you to suffer fools gladly, cure cancer in a way that looks dashing, invent a new flavor of joy, define an as-yet unrecognized sexuality, surprise a loved one with something so sweet and spontaneous it makes them a little suspicious of you, walk around with a balloon (or if you're like me and you hate balloons pop every one you see), get drunk with your best friend and exchange secrets you never thought you'd tell, scream for ice cream, do not follow your diet or exercise routine (unless you're one of those freaky people that likes to exercise), avoid apathy, crack yourself up, tickle your fancy until it pees.

Let's celebrate Minnesota!

Posted by Job O Brother, May 13, 2013 02:33pm | Post a Comment
Congratulations, ol' 32. You done good.









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