tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268074252024-03-13T07:25:15.353-05:00killing mediocritylife is full of duldrum and uneventful blahs everywhere. This piece of electronic communication is an attempt to understand that life IS exicting and not always about the grand events but little ones that happen everyday. We miss those moments because we are so caught up in becoming the best employee, getting that great relationship or trying to please everyone.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-71575287741410102412010-04-08T22:02:00.002-05:002010-04-08T22:03:38.941-05:00Illustrations Friday:Dip<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S76Y-lbOstI/AAAAAAAAAFY/4AQH9Rb0sGI/s1600/IFDip.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 363px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S76Y-lbOstI/AAAAAAAAAFY/4AQH9Rb0sGI/s400/IFDip.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457967999385252562" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-17365094146921384742010-03-25T23:20:00.002-05:002010-03-25T23:26:07.506-05:00Expired<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S6w2dqN1CUI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/R2XERIK_0sE/s1600/IF-Expired.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S6w2dqN1CUI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/R2XERIK_0sE/s400/IF-Expired.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452793132015225154" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-40365849499410463092010-02-25T22:26:00.002-06:002010-02-25T22:27:28.644-06:00IF:Propagate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S4dNqj_5FmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/kH6Q_OEohNY/s1600-h/IFPropagate.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S4dNqj_5FmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/kH6Q_OEohNY/s400/IFPropagate.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442404068313601634" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-1042584259221567912010-02-18T23:29:00.001-06:002010-02-18T23:31:00.175-06:00Illustration Friday: Adrift<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S34iClpVSbI/AAAAAAAAAFA/C_p7BQ3eDfc/s1600-h/adrift.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/S34iClpVSbI/AAAAAAAAAFA/C_p7BQ3eDfc/s400/adrift.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439822827770694066" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-91110905079118463202009-12-07T23:59:00.000-06:002009-12-08T00:00:08.080-06:00For you my LoveRace with me down to city hall my love. We shall push the speed limit and all the guards of the city will miss our car because cupid has distracted them. With feet clamoring across the skids our car just made we race up the steps to city hall (OH Please God tell me they have not closed) On time indeed, Yes oh Soon we shall be true lovers! Up to the official we race as freshman during the Track and Field finals. As cold air enters a diner I get cold feet, “is this smart, my love?” I think. You see my thoughts translating themselves on my face through the lines and sinking smile. The court house gains a feeling of a…tomb. With the patience like that of someone with nineteen children my lover stands in front of me, ready to go through hades and swim in the fire of doubt with me. Somehow, in some way (God are you this direct?) I realize as my lover stands there that she’ll be there, for me always. She could tell me to hurry, to get myself together, to grow up, but she’s patience. She puts up with my snags and ugliness and all the things that make me a creature of the night. I pull myself back to earth, back to her and back to the courthouse. As a set of reeds flow in the breeze our minds sway into sync and The Beautiful monster of Progress flies once again. First we each take a step, then another, her arm suddenly gains the strength of a bargeman and a sound of pure joy (which I could hardly begin to describe how that thrills me) leaps out of her mouth. Almost like the depth of doubt ever happened we are sprinting just as before. We meet the official and words go so fast from our twenty-something mouths that he asks us to repeat ourselves. Words like lighting take us to a horrible and painful existence, WITNESS. Our Official repeats for our hasty love soaked brains, “Did you bring a witness for your marriage?”benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-91798420369036120702009-11-30T20:01:00.000-06:002009-11-30T20:02:10.230-06:00113009Feeling on the blah side of life I feel the need to do the very thing that usually fulfills the necessary catharsis for the current mood. I’m glad that I realize I cannot move back, so I have two options: stay in place or move forward. It seems obvious but where I am right now I need some obvious. Here’s a question for starters – Why do I feel like an old man today? On the lonely and isolated side of the evening I sat in this recliner in the apartment, in front of the TV and thought, “Where did The Ben go who wanted to live more adventurously and did the things he enjoyed doing?” Am I over-romantisizing the college years or even something earlier than that? Placing myself under the clutches of the past and an imagined fear of the present feels very precarious. I have the most to gain from this moment on. Forget about her (for a bit) Forget about my failures (more imagined) Forget about the worries…Forget about the past.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-23388159622620814912009-11-28T12:34:00.002-06:002009-11-28T13:00:05.818-06:00in NowVan Halen's "Right Now" appeared as the second song in the Pandora selection and it seemed very VERY appropriate. The conviction flashed into mind as clear as the pretentious beeping of my cell phone when someone sends a text. My psychologist mentioned the probably trite (but new to me) phrase - "You have to live in the Now. You cannot live in the yesterday or tomorrow." (paraphrase) I love it. hyper attention deficit, laziness, lust, and a generous sprinkling of Fear fight against this Now that I live and my efforts to make the most out of any scenario in my life. However, God in his Might and Sovereignty (yep, I am going to use the s-word) allows me to take each step. With all of the previous said I am ready to map out this Glorious non Grind of a day by prioritzing even the fun of this saturday. Bachelor apiphany of the day - Realizing that it didn't make the slightest difference that I would eat the chocolate cheesecake straight out of the container rather than try to look for a small plate.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-38216574156526810522009-09-30T16:41:00.001-05:002009-09-30T16:42:41.387-05:00Wednesday September 30th 2009~Feeling like an overloading circuit probably best describes this moment. I am the impulsive 2nd grader with a crayon and a HUGE coloring book that I cannot get my partially greasy hands on. Ideas zoom through my awake mind like the crazy cars from Mississippi, on their way into Memphis. It seems very normal to race at the first thing in my brain and paint it or draw it or sing it but I must first consult the one who created me. <br />~benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-71929237832472292962009-08-21T23:07:00.002-05:002009-08-21T23:17:19.076-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/So9xO8F6ceI/AAAAAAAAAE4/bjrnh0T3A2k/s1600-h/unicorn"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 203px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/So9xO8F6ceI/AAAAAAAAAE4/bjrnh0T3A2k/s320/unicorn" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372637381939327458" /></a><br /><br />Cornell Krill, the marmalade colored creative sits in the peppermint tower of reflection. The tower stands guarded by the eternal Christmas trees. Cornell’s tears come from his sorrow because even though he is a trapped unicorn he is also a Creative Director. During the age of Vast (2007 – 2009 Earth Years) many of his projects began but were never finished. Cornell cannot remember how he ended up a prisoner in this sugary tower but he does know that his release depends on the completion of ALL projects. The last word that echoed from below still haunts him, “HALT!”benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-9290993148975041762009-07-30T21:52:00.000-05:002009-07-30T21:53:43.941-05:00Idle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SnJcqwDs4SI/AAAAAAAAAEw/wQoeYcGZVXc/s1600-h/0730IF.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SnJcqwDs4SI/AAAAAAAAAEw/wQoeYcGZVXc/s320/0730IF.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364451995676369186" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-44939461334966671562009-05-22T10:31:00.002-05:002009-05-22T11:06:26.426-05:00Inside of Friday MorningI am sitting on this awkward wooden stool and looking ahead of the coffee bar as many, many, many people just passed by in almost a stampede fashion. Men and Boys in suits and Classic Southern Seersucker ensembles weave in and through the whimsical as well as formally dressed women and girls. Graduation for the Sixth graders at PDS just ended. It feels a bit like a fashion show because so many people constantly walk by, especially today because everyone brought their Sunday best. Every other day that I work here I think, "I need to walk away from this." This coffee house feels like I'm driving a Car with only three wheels sometimes. When I'm driving the "car" people come by and ask me, "Where is your fourth wheel?"benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-81760803090709065742009-04-26T22:11:00.005-05:002009-04-26T22:30:14.729-05:00Monday is coming - take cover!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SfUmvrlRmaI/AAAAAAAAAEI/lOCflWIBpCw/s1600-h/office_space.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SfUmvrlRmaI/AAAAAAAAAEI/lOCflWIBpCw/s320/office_space.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329208334657624482" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I have to say right now that I am in good spirits. I really enjoy saying that phrase for some reason. I am really excited about the week ahead and all that i want to get done. Thankfully I only have one shift this week so it will work out for us (the kerns family of four) to head out Thursday morning - awesome! I am really excited because the boys and my older sis and bro in law will meet up with us a few days later. I will probably look back on my time in life right now and think "Man, I had it so good back then." But right now usually all I can think about is how I feel like I don't have anything going on (in my life). Here is the main objective for vacation week - "Recharge."benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-62945495785776233062009-04-17T09:56:00.002-05:002009-04-17T09:58:41.306-05:00Alien Affection for Asian Anchor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SeiY_q-dM_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/cmbHoURdJOg/s1600-h/DSCN6155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SeiY_q-dM_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/cmbHoURdJOg/s400/DSCN6155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325674779001041906" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-39742196654725907712009-04-15T11:53:00.001-05:002009-04-15T11:54:42.299-05:00food in the forest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SeYRFjYEgbI/AAAAAAAAAD4/VryR50RhnAE/s1600-h/foodintheforest.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SeYRFjYEgbI/AAAAAAAAAD4/VryR50RhnAE/s400/foodintheforest.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324962396505407922" /></a><br /><br />I don't know what I'm going to do today, but I sure have a enough to do. The above illustration has no deep meaning but I'm sure you could find one.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-12031058391765955082009-03-29T22:54:00.000-05:002009-03-29T22:57:40.337-05:00from my brain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SdBDHh_DeOI/AAAAAAAAADw/ELM9yaP0FVQ/s1600-h/DSCN6090.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SdBDHh_DeOI/AAAAAAAAADw/ELM9yaP0FVQ/s400/DSCN6090.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318824956585539810" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-15115329800208781392009-02-11T18:02:00.002-06:002009-02-11T18:05:47.085-06:00Sandwich making & unemployment<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SZNn1DdNx-I/AAAAAAAAADo/lg8L5XioAbI/s1600-h/directions4sandwich.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SZNn1DdNx-I/AAAAAAAAADo/lg8L5XioAbI/s400/directions4sandwich.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301695347503777762" /></a><br /><br /><br />Many points in life simply move forward like a small line of beads, missed & barely analyzied by the mind. But then there are those distinct moments when one of those drops skips out of line, marking the end of one line and the beginning of another. My particular spot occurred roughly 22 days ago, the day on which Barry made his way into the white House and the history books. They let me go. I was a little surprised, but as soon as the words, “Ben, could you come to Jim’s (GM) office when you get a chance? came out of my boss’s mouth my Gut said, “This is it.” How often has my boss the owner of the store asked me to meet him in Jim’s office? Close to never<br />So yeah, I am unemployed and if you think of me I would appreciate a prayer or two. I realize that God WILL provide I’m just not sure how. Last line of business before I scoot out for the evening. I almost threw the above image away, then I noticed something. It has a recipe for a sandwich and “METHOD?” Is method code for directions for ignorant people? I have never seen ‘directions’ for a sandwich. The clear goop on the image is known as a "booger" in the Design world. <br /><br />BTW – I have a crush. I hope she feels the same way.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-29774777383706188882009-02-10T10:03:00.000-06:002009-02-10T10:05:04.792-06:00my cool North American Friend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SZGlifdjT1I/AAAAAAAAADg/zw6P37GtW_0/s1600-h/007AlanaComposite.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SZGlifdjT1I/AAAAAAAAADg/zw6P37GtW_0/s400/007AlanaComposite.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301200248371367762" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-14260512517803905382009-01-17T19:28:00.000-06:002009-01-17T19:32:48.825-06:00Thursday Night (when it was cold as bricks!)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SXKGen0ILDI/AAAAAAAAADQ/AnXfpi0lG-4/s1600-h/DSCN5733.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SXKGen0ILDI/AAAAAAAAADQ/AnXfpi0lG-4/s400/DSCN5733.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292440372755573810" /></a>benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-4391628322908138772008-12-08T21:14:00.004-06:002008-12-08T21:48:35.089-06:00Dovember<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/ST3qjjudnCI/AAAAAAAAADI/ONpuVkTCO4I/s1600-h/DSCN5462l.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 189px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/ST3qjjudnCI/AAAAAAAAADI/ONpuVkTCO4I/s200/DSCN5462l.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277632234954529826" /></a><br /><br />'ello all! My auchenfoyle mug indicates that I have overtasted my coffee, so much for an early bedtime. I will avoid the present duties and ramble here for a moment. Here goes the recap - We will have a new [black} president. I wish everybody would focus more on content rather looks. We will probably receive many new and special ways to be taxed. I have survived the first (&hopefully last) cold of the season. I lost a local love. I saw a local love, but she slipped out during the Christmas party before I could say any more. And if the season couldn't become anymore interesting I went to serve my civic duty and showed up for jury duty. I liked the change of scenery, but the not the change of company. Slumber like you mean it gang.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-83694707744808674042008-10-22T21:41:00.005-05:002008-10-22T21:59:02.862-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SP_oZT-PcBI/AAAAAAAAACc/WNC_7vDZcPU/s1600-h/drunksmurf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SP_oZT-PcBI/AAAAAAAAACc/WNC_7vDZcPU/s200/drunksmurf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260178411347734546" /></a><br /><br />I'm happy as a bug in a rug right now. By the way, why does everyone assume that a bug in a rug would be really happy (in a rug)? Isn't that the human equivalent of saying, "I'm as happy as a human in the suicide lane?" <br /><br />p.s. Hooray for 5hr. Energy Drink! I'm sixteen again! (minus the lack of confidence and crater sized zits)benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-27955359961057998782008-10-18T16:21:00.003-05:002008-10-18T16:35:02.751-05:00Once at Starbucks -<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SPpWclWyLyI/AAAAAAAAABc/Ng3_3DeYVoU/s1600-h/chat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SPpWclWyLyI/AAAAAAAAABc/Ng3_3DeYVoU/s400/chat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258610563972476706" /></a><br /><br /><br />Jimmy Eat World cheers me up when I am moods other than very sad, happy, joyous, courageous, etc. I am placing this image of a great moment in my contemplative history. When you perk up your ears among others and appear to be focused on a book or study you can absorb a great deal of information. Today between 1230 - 1630 is not really worth informing/blogging about. I will say this though - I HATE looking for paper work, More lessons on stewardship...benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-85661706112354856682008-10-01T23:52:00.002-05:002008-10-01T23:58:50.099-05:00just in time...I will make my deadline for October 1! I have exactly 7 Minutes left. <br />And the Winner is . . . Autumn! According to this Cerebral Cortex You are the favorite season for the 26 year in a row! What can I say this season just rawks my world. One thing to note about work today - this nice burned out guy from a band called today to place an order. I was going over some of the standard details of placing an order and then he interrupts me and says, "I don't know any of that computer talk." What a bold guy. He does not give a crap what people think. He is willing to call it the way he sees it.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-30653115038930838332008-09-04T00:47:00.005-05:002008-09-04T00:52:07.693-05:00LOL<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fragrancenet.com/images/photos/HUMMER_M.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.fragrancenet.com/images/photos/HUMMER_M.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />buy some mouth wash, check. <br />browse the fragrance section marked "50 % OFF", check. <br />notice the fragance, hummer????<br />Hummer makes a cologne?? Gosh, I laughed out loud and I'm sure someone thought I was crazy, but then again not at Ike's. So if you did wear that cologne and somebody asked you what you were wearing, how would you tell them?benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-50396465838039530352008-08-31T20:23:00.002-05:002008-08-31T20:26:03.733-05:00Andy Warhol stole my gym bag and killed my cardio<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SLtEoT_TpSI/AAAAAAAAABU/KAeqhwOHKtU/s1600-h/andygymbag.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SLtEoT_TpSI/AAAAAAAAABU/KAeqhwOHKtU/s400/andygymbag.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240858050726962466" /></a><br /><br />A few obscenities jumped through my throat, flew past my teeth and promptly landed on my freshly damaged passenger car door. Andy Warhol stole my gym bad and killed my cardio. <br /><br />Two hours earlier the world seemed a fraction brighter as I pulled into the Brooks museum to view The Andy Warhol A to B exhibit. It was a great exhibit. Sadly, the last time I think I visited any gallery was two years ago. <br />Marilyn gazed blankly ahead through fields of magenta and green. Grace Kelly stoically gazed through swiggled lines of yellow and turquoise. Groups of Cammo canvases consisting of Retina irritating colors like lime green and radioactive pink shouted out at me. I knew what I was in for and losing yourself in any type of artist’s work and just soaking it in really makes the brain juices flow. Little did I know that Andy kept me away while my black gym back grew legs and walked off. Did the bag walk off during my intimate gazing moments over the Campbell’s Soup series or during the perplexing and nonsensical print of Paolo Uccello, St. George and the Dragon (1984)? Only Andy’s accomplice and maybe the silent statues of Brooks know where my gym back ended up.<br /><br />With a head full of bloated intellectual thoughts about consumerism and a good deal of inspiration I moseyed over to the car in the eastern lot. As I started the engine a vacancy crept into my mind’s inventory of the terrain in my car and I realized that my gym bag was not where I left it. Optimism clouded my thoughts and I assumed that maybe I left it at the apartment or put it in the back of the car, neither option I remembered. The drive back consisted of many ponderings with the word “hmm” and “that’s strange.” As I made it up towards my apartment I confirmed what I felt, no (gym) shoes, no (gym) clothes, no gym bag. One more weak, and overtly optimistic possibility arrived in my mind, “What if I left the bag on the roof of the car.” So on my way back to Brooks I roamed the curbs while driving, thus placing my eyes in over time. Back to the Brooks I went and just in time since they close promptly at 5 on Saturdays. There was a shuffle between the museum guards and the short and rather off beat Asian lady guard directed me down the stairs. With a jacket longer than her arms and a smile on her face she asked me “So you not put bag in trunk?” The end of her comment ended in a laughter that usually occurs during a viewing of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Partially stunned and very agitated I responded “uh, no I had it in the passenger’s seat.” She took me through a series of heavy security doors and down towards the surveillance room. Ready to see some footage of the crime and maybe a glimpse of the beady eyes of Andy’s accomplice, I stepped into the surveillance room. “Sir, you can’t come in here,” Said the nice looking black girl at the helm of the monitors. “Oh, sorry. Do you see anything?" In a tone that would put a high schooler to shame she responded, “No, you can’t even see your car in this shot. I ran the tape back and I didn’t see anyone.” With no other suggestions or anything beyond a feeble “I’m sorry” uttered, they were ready to go. I followed the Asian lady out the exit and walked to my car, still baffled and frustrated. Still about 80 percent convinced that the bag had been taken I made my way over to the gas station to fill up my tank since the two round trips to the museum took enough fuel to set me back to less than a quarter of a tank. For some reason I decided to actually check the passenger door when I got to the gas station. That’s when I knew for sure that some [place your favorite word for crook here] stole it. I called the cops and the Officer filled out my info. I doubt we are more than a year apart. Enjoy my sweaty gym clothes and my worn out New Balance shoes!!!benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26807425.post-5614110114675515522008-08-22T21:17:00.001-05:002008-08-22T21:19:32.357-05:00_/\_<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SK9zrvMkI9I/AAAAAAAAABE/TePt_9tf2QI/s1600-h/15minutes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SBT32-CMZWE/SK9zrvMkI9I/AAAAAAAAABE/TePt_9tf2QI/s400/15minutes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237532086895911890" /></a><br /> I would consider myself a cultural chameleon.benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12889668759509076162noreply@blogger.com1