Amoeblog

(Wherein we eagerly anticipate the death of leaves.)

Posted by Job O Brother, September 28, 2011 11:04am | Post a Comment


snow
Fairfax & Melrose

I’ve lived in Los Angeles long enough now to notice a two-degree temperature drop and the standard grey, morning haze lasting an extra hour and excitedly exclaim, “Fall is in the air!” It’s what I have to work with down here.

Autumn is my favorite time of year. I’m eager to cuddle up in coats, drink steamy brews, over-do holiday cooking, celebrate Walrus Day, and frankly, I like the melancholic pallor it casts o’er humanity – makes my fellow man seem more relatable than when they’re sweating and spiking balls over nets, behavior which makes me skittish and distrustful.

Of course I know this new chill in the air may be a tease; there’s always opportunity for Mother Nature to Alan Funt the situation. I’m not boxing up my cargo shorts and ice cube collection just yet, but I am eager. To prepare, I’ve hand-selected the finest mini-marshmallows to serve in cocoa (I myself hate eating marshmallows – they’re like sugar-sweetened, antique erasers, but ironically I delight in judging and organizing them), I’ve begun psychologically manipulating the boyfriend with subliminal messages while he watches The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills to favor Douglas Firs over White Firs, and I’ve taught my cats to knit their own sweaters. (To be honest, this last effort has been a real power struggle, with both felines putting up a lot of resistance and excuses:

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(Wherein I play with myself.)

Posted by Job O Brother, April 25, 2011 01:30pm | Post a Comment

vintage postcard

I’m a bachelor this week – so to speak. Emotionally I am in love and committed to the boyfriend, but as he is in the Great Country of Texas for the next week, I am functioning as single. As much as I miss him, I do get to indulge in certain activities I would otherwise not.

For starters, I can safely wear wife-beaters without incurring any catty remarks about my “smacking my girlfriend around” or needing to go out and “fix my bike”. I like to pair my wife-beaters with basketball shorts and hair un-brushed to the point where I look like a White Panther. A half-empty bottle of Bud Light would really complete the look, but I’m no fashion sheep.

bud light
On the runways of Paris this summer.

Speaking of alcohol, when alone I get to drink wine my most favorite way: straight from the bottle. It looks awful. It looks trashy, debaucherous, and to outside eyes would seem like a red flag signaling the starting race towards alcoholism – but I don’t drink any more from a bottle than I would a glass, plus this way I get so much more oxygen with each sip, thus facilitating a burst of flavor and heightening all the complexities and subtle nuances a bottle of Charles Shaw has to offer. Also, it’s one less glass to wash, which means it’s greener. Drinking wine straight from the bottle helps trees and future generations of children!

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(Wherein Mardi Gras is given an in-depth assessment.)

Posted by Job O Brother, March 7, 2011 05:01pm | Post a Comment
disneyland maps
How it appeared before they annexed Poland.

I’ll give you two guesses as to who was at Disneyland yesterday.

Your first guess was Charles the Bald, Holy Roman Emperor and King of West Francia which makes you sound well-educated – even astute – but because he’s been dead since 877 AD, over one thousand years before the opening of Disneyland, it was ultimately a stupid, stupid guess – even more so when you learn that Charles II thought Donald Duck was “so retarded.”

Your second guess is that I was at Disneyland with my boyfriend, two of my sisters, and some of their children. Now that’s using your noggin’! (Nice, noggin’, BTW.)

It wasn’t long ago that I was at Disneyland with rock superstar Micayla Grace (currently playing with Rachel Fannan) for her first time. I told you about that, right? No? Well, it was super. Micayla and I got high on rainbow-swirled lollipops (if you cut them into a powder and snort it you’ll hallucinate so hard that the blood gushing from your nose looks like juicy, red licorice whips [but will taste awful]) and had our picture taken with Goofy (or someone we thought was Goofy but turned out to be a soft-spoken teenage boy with neuropathic heredofamilial amyloidosis and very grumpy parents) before being given a tour of the infamous Disney "jail" after a botched assassination attempt on the animatronic Abraham Lincoln during the Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln show on Main Street, USA.