Beer Babes 3

My beer cans keep bringing out new pinup girls in shorts.
I used this as an excuse to showcase some brand-new leaves on a potted ivy because it's Spring and I'm enjoying it as hard as I can.





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Beer Babes 2

It's a little bit too cold to be wearing shorts, girl.

Baby's ButtAid

I have no need for this product, but the packaging was irresistable.

Relief for the un-happy Butt!
I know someone with an unhappy butt--unfortunately zinc oxide won't help them.

Good Dogs, Bad Cats?

Those are the sayings, but it's not so simple.

Over several years of living in the same place, you might learn the names of your neighbor's pets.
Not all of them--for example, I don't care to learn anything about the 3 weinerdogs across the street because they're assholes.
I work in my yard all the time and really wish they would get used to it.
Shut up!
The new city trash barrels keep them from tearing open my garbage bags when they escape at night, which might be the best part of automated refuse pickup!


While watering last week this big fellow ran up to me, then hung around for 10 minutes or so.
Note the eyes.
Obviously not a Husky (there's a breeder around the corner) so I'm guessing Malamute or a Husky/Collie mix, but what the hell do I know about dogs?
His long hair flowed hypnotically with every step like some breeds at the Westminster Dog Show's main ring during the finals, so I was very impressed...until he maneuvered upwind of me.
This boy smelled!

Bad enough that I never touched him despite a strong desire to feel that fur.

Then he plopped-down on my wet grass, which couldn't have helped.
Bet he was running away from a bath when he found me.
Never learned his name, but probably will eventually.

(The photo doesn't really convey just how enormous this dog was).


This happened around midnight:
I heard a crash outside last night and did a window-peek.
Saw the trashed petunias, then caught a glimpse of a skinny cat shadow walking around our car.

There are two main suspects--Bucky and Willy.
Bucky has been featured here before, but at the time I had been mis-hearing his name when called for dinner as Lucky.
Interesting title on that link...a recent chat with his owner set me straight.

But I suspect it was Willy, Bucky's little brother by two or 3 litters who has been hanging around our house a LOT lately.
He spends his afternoons lounging in the grass in our backyard, then comes back late at night to sleep on a chair on our patio.
In fact, he's in the chair right now!

Willy's probably afraid of possums and deer and 'coons lurking in the dark on the sides of the houses in my 'hood, so he climbs our fence then jumps onto the roof and walks over to the front, where it's a short jump to the decorative brick wall that gives our sidewalk and porch some privacy.
We keep flowerpots on top of the wall, which makes it challenging for the cats.
A bad landing probably--hit the pot of petunias and scared himself silly.
No hard feelings, Willy.

I used to like Willy because he was silent, unlike his brother who won't shut his meow-hole if there's anyone around to listen.
But around 10pm tonight we were startled by something banging against our patio door, mere inches from the couch as we watched TV.
It was Willy hunting grasshoppers.
He also gets on the table under our porch light and goes after moths and geckos.
2 days ago I watched him play with a baby toad, and 2 months ago I saw him kill a lizard for fun and practice.

I guess the title should have been Smelly Dogs, Wild Cats.
For the record, I prefer the survival-oriented behavior of cats.

RSVP ?

The three prime tables at RevRoom were already reserved when I got there.
Sloppily-torn strips of paper taped to the tables said so, written with a pen that'll never be accused of being bold.
Then these fine-ass folded signs were added, and they really hit the mark before sagging:


Yeah, it says "R S V P", which is French for Are you coming the fuck over or what? Let me know.
Ooops.





My actual problem is that the Reservers didn't show up until 11:20pm to take possesion of their respectfully vacant tables and chairs, while the rest of the club was already bursting at the seams.
That's bullshit, especially when they didn't even need all 3 tables and the one in the photo is where I prefer to place my equipment.
The crappy sign kept my favorite location empty and unproductive until I snapped and ripped it out.
Installed a trio of bikers there to stabilize my borders.

Yes, a sash is in my photo.
There's a first time for everything.
By all reports (I was 2 busy 2 look) it said "Bride 2B", so of course I was dealing with classy people who still didn't bother to RSVP that third table.

The Correct Amount Of Pee

Compare and contrast from this post in August.
I take full credit for getting this fixed.

As your intrepid shitcan advert watchdog, it falls on my shoulders to make sure that offensive typos don't ruin your pissing experience.

Thank me with beers so we can keep this project going...

Extra Pee

Typos are one thing, but for ad copy with a major gaffe to make it to print and then get used is not acceptable.


It's just a coincidence that two photos in a row include urinals.
I'm not some creepy guy with a camera hanging around the men's rooms all over town.
Both of these were in bars across the street from each other (another coincidence--like gold, comedy is where you find it) on Broadway.
Last week's was taken after closing, while today's was caught before they opened.

Potty Humor

I didn't put that bumper sticker in the urinal, but I would have given the chance.

What I also like is the classic additions of a cigarette butt and a wad of gum.
Perfectly authentic, and thankfully there's no barf.
On this particular night the odds weren't good that any toilet in the building would survive without getting some.
I got lucky.

What's In The Colonel's Garage?

I recently got the chance to peek into someone else's garage and take pictures of their stuff.

I remember hand drills like this, before DeWalt and Black And Decker perfected rechargeable electric ones.
In fact, there was a small DeWalt with it's battery on it's charger nearby, but it's nice to see that this old tool was kept.

Wow! I have never seen another one of these before now.
Zzakk's Garage has had one since I was a baby.

Frenzy Art

This awesome switchplate was a gift from Selma M.
She comments on my blogs, drinks tequila with me, makes me laugh, flings corn and mashed potatos onto my shirt, and cries when I give her the perfect photo.
Selma has more of my prints than anyone else.

Apparently she saw this in some funky shop near Dallas and knew I would love it, and man was she right.
Firstly, I've been really into skulls for the last few years, especially Mexican Day Of The Dead imagery.
When she gave it to me I had just been offered my dream job of playing bass with my favorite local musicians and what do you know?
The mohawked skeleton is playing a bass.
Plus there are stage lights (another big thing with me) and a cool coffin guitar case.
When my new band starts doing gigs I won't be wearing shorts, but who wants to bet against me having my first-ever mohawk?

I have it on the light/ceiling fan switch 6 feet to my right, so I can see it all the time.
Thanks, Selma!!!
You nailed me with this suprise gift.

"Frenzy Art is Functional Art & Diabolical Gifts Celebrating the Mexican Day of the Dead (...& every other day).
Frenzy Art comes from the mind of artist Ladislao Loera."

I don't have any contact info, but Google shouldn't have any trouble.

Enchilagna

I'm going to assume that you already know how to make enchiladas.
We took a pound of 90/10 ground beef plus all the other usual ingredients like onions, grated cheese and enchilada sauce, then made a layered casserole just like you would prepare lasagna, in a 9x9" Pyrex dish.
(I'm also assuming you have a passing aquaintance with the structure of lasagna).

Cutting the corn tortillas in half makes it easier to get their edges to cooperate with a square pan.

The main thing is that you don't have to fry the tortillas, or fill and roll them.
This cuts out a ton of prep time, so you're saying "Mmmm...oh my God...more!!!" at least half an hour sooner and the taste is pretty much the same.

Using tortillas that haven't been fried means less grease, which is good for you.

All Hail Zzakk's Garage Post #301

One of those storms that's unlike anything I've seen previously.
A long front--by the time the sucker hit us it had suddenly developed into a line that spanned three big Texas counties, but was so thin that the hail, rain and high winds only lasted for 15-20 minutes or so.
Should have made a screen-grab of the radar--never seen white on the Nexlab Mosaic Animation before.

Hail is fun when it isn't dangerous. Our metal patio roof sounded like a bad drummer who only uses the snare and tunes it really high.
I love how the TV weather dorks always use something dumb to help their viewers visualize the size of hail--as if they've never used a ruler before.
Then again, the general public isn't as swift as my readers :)

"Pea-sized hail" makes me think it's yellow, too.
"Baseball-sized hail" is bigger than pool ball hail, but is it heavier?
Apparently there's no such thing as hail-sized hail, yet every single hailstone is exactly that.
(Don't think about it too much or you'll freak out, ya damn dirty hippies!)

I used the classic quarter comparison, since it was in my pocket and has become the blogging standard.

A neighbor was out watching from the front porch, too.
Her awesome yelled advice was to "Put your cars in the garage!"
Okayyy...thanks?
Like we're too stupid to think of that ourselves?
Would've been the first thing we did instead of taking pictures had Zzakk's actual Garage not been too busy holding bikes and tools and other extra junk, listening to Iron Maiden, making out with that slutty 3-car garage from the next street over, and getting into my vodka.

The older Honda is a faded stealthy ripper that revels in it's ugliness (and redlight purchase offers) while the newer one saved us at least 3 grand by already having hail damage that you can only see when the moon is full.

Our position is that "Acts of God" are muy bien.

Lindsay Lohan Sighting

You never know when or where you'll see a celebrity--even when shopping at Target.








Get it?

The 8th Dwarf?

Drinky, Sleazy, Douchebag, Throw-Up, Wussy, Stinky, Wanker, and introducing:
Mopey.

Assistant video boy, hair tugger, zit farmer, nincompoop.
Never saw his eyes, never heard a word, never saw any initiative except for when he was bootlegging my band's performance, as seen here.
I guess Chrissy got him half-hard (all that can be expected) but she's twice the man he'll ever be.
Also never saw him in a situation that mattered where the cam didn't get taken away by his boss.
So sad...

I'm not cruel by nature, but haven't we all been exposed to someone who just made you want to stand on their neck until something pops?
Mopey wasn't interested in improving, which is the greatest sin of all.

In the days of my youth...

...I was told what it means to be a man.


These wacky kids today, with their strange new ways.
Back when WE were young, we didn't....oh wait.

Yes, we did.
Only better.

Just In Case...

...you don't visit the photoblog where I post pics and commentary for the three bands that I work with, here's a tasty shot using wireless remote flash and some bonus cigarette smoke from the drunk chicks that spiked local sales figures of Michelob Ultra tonight.