ones and zeroes

Better living through modern chemistry.


16 balls/16.5 fingers

"only in America could you find a way to make a healthy buck
and still keep your attitude on self-destruct"
-MF Doom

I live in one of the most industrially advanced, educationally progressive, scientifically advanced nations in the world. We're so much further along than all those barbarians running around other parts of the world. We don't even believe in torture. Which is why we just outsource it to the barbarians instead. What a fucking sham. It amazes me how a Christian agenda won the election. Openly, the Republican party is declaring its desire to preserve Christian values. Christian values! Torture, discrimination, disrespect, racist policies abound! And don't get me started on the death penalty. If you want to think of yourselves as an enlightened nation, you can't sanction the killing of killers. It has absolutely no logic to it. And meanwhile, someone who wants to die can't even kill themselves or get help with euthanasia. Ugh. Anyway. I'm not even in the mood for politics right now.

Yesterday, if you read the entry below this one, you may have noticed I was really enjoying sitting at work. Well boy did things go downhill within an hour of that post. I have never been so fucking sick of work as I was yesterday. I went into a meeting with my boss, Dave, that snide little prick, and we were waiting to see if a phonecall would go through to this dude at MCI. Then, with absolutely no reason to say it, out of nowhere, he says:

"See Danny, business is everywhere in life, it's always going to be there and you're always going to have to be a part of it, no matter how much you want to run around doing artsy-fartsy stuff."

Well, you slimy little fucktard, way to be ridiculously rude. It's the equivalent of me walking into his office in the middle of the day and saying, "Art is the only true human purpose [and then taking a snivelly tone] no matter how much you may enjoy your business schmisness." Later on, during a pizza party meeting with a couple of our consultants, he was talking about a part of his knee that always hurts from running. He said, "I think it's the only design flaw the good Lord looked over." I said NOTHING, and he immediately followed it up with, "But I don't think Danny agrees with my terminology there." What the good god fuck, you white-picket-fence-SUV-driving-republican-voting-lying-to-your-customers motherfucker. I wanted to just quit and destroy everything I had been working on regarding this huge project we did for MCI. Of course, I didn't. I didn't even tell him I was offended by anything he said. Because it's not worth it. He'll always be an asshole.

After that rousing game of how-long-can-I-stand-this-fucking-place, I headed back uptown for some hummus and gin-and-tonics at Lucy and Ei's place, followed by pad thai from Thailand Cafe all leading up to some more gin-and-tonics during the O.C.. Jay sums up all my complaints in one tidy little paragraph. Lucy said it right when she noted that episodes of the O.C. tend to fall just short of excellent and leave you a bit disappointed. Granted I've only seen 4, but that's how I feel. Anyway.

I then delivered a pizza all the way to my sister's apartment at 5th between A and B, being the oh-so-wonderful brother that I am. In case you're wondering what could bring on such a case of do-gooderism, I had to give Nika much respect for helping to set up the big art project in Central Park that was designed by Christo. She's been up at 6 AM every day this week assembling the huge arches, draping the fabrics, getting rained on, and going to bed at 9:30 each night. So when she called me begging for pizza, I told her once the lesbians kissed I'd hop on over.

I then met up with Lucy once more to head over to Micky's Blue Room to meet up with DJ Del for our guest spot behind the CD decks. We got there a little early, just in time to catch some of the worst stand-up comedy I've ever been witness to in my life. I HATE stand-up comedy. What a waste of everybody's time. I could think of a much better way to get a laugh: Get some funny friends and have a fucking conversation. Do I sound angry today? ARGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

The night continued on with the hits being pumped out by the three of us. It was awesome. We had the back room all to ourselves while local folk mingled on the barside of the establishment. INXS, The Arcade Fire, The Walkmen, A Tribe Called Quest, what DIDN'T we play? It was truly sweet. The bartender even unlocked the pool table for us so we didn't have to pay to play.

Speaking of shooting pool, you may wonder why this entire post is titled 16 balls/16.5 fingers. Well, that's what was involved in the first three games I played. See, I shot three games of pool with a guy (I think his name was John) who had a left hand full-o-fingers, and a right hand comprised of a thumb and a semblance of a pinky. And he was damn good. I'm pretty good at pool myself, and though he won the third game on my scratch, he still managed to hand me a 2-1 defeat. It was a good time. Soon after that Daylen stopped by and we shot some more, even trying out a game of 9-ball which was my favorite back in high school. I gotta shoot more pool, period.

I went to sleep, and had some fucked up dreams that I can not remember, though I woke with the searing sensation that I had travelled enormous distances and performed astounding feats.


  • At 4:02 PM, Blogger jayloose said…


    my apologies for not making it last night, i've been feeling sicky and i can't be for saturday.

    anyway, let's burn your boss! that fucker shouldn't be saying shit like that to anyone. I'd punch him where his balls should be if I knew what he looked like.

    choose romance.

  • At 4:09 PM, Blogger tumblehawk said…

    No problem sir, but if you'd like my boss' physical description and daily schedule I'd be glad to provide.

    Ever think of suggesting that the band change their name to "I Hate You But I've Chosen Romance"?

  • At 3:11 PM, Blogger Laurence O'Neal Suarez said…

    Hey Izz two thoughts:
    A) Next time Mr. Boss Small Pants fucks with you, ask him what he means. Make him explain himself in front of his captive audience. Be that a room full of drones or not, don't be that whipping boy. His shitty behavior has the sole advantage of expecting you to do nothing. Just by doing something ONCE you'll make him double guess himself next time God shits a witticism in his mouth. Don't be rude, don't be unprofessional, DON'T TAKE SHIT.

    B) Nika get 25 Cool Points for being involved with "The Gates". HIGH FIVE Nika!! I kindly ask that you get some footage of it as I'll be out of town for the length of the installation and the stills I'm finding online do nothing to capture what I'm sure is some magnificent movement.

    Le SIGH


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