Tuesday, February 17, 2009
This guy had the full on black (maybe pinstriped?) fedora, a loose fitting, open button down shirt and comfortable "cool-guy" jeans. He even had the black coily hair. The only thing missing was the guitar. The entire time I was actually wondering why this guy didn't have his electric guitar swished behind his back, guitar pick in hand. Because of course, Carlos Santana carries his guitar with him everywhere.
Anyway, I get to the library. (I wasn't joking about the library thing.) I get the book I need and print some things off a computer. And then I see this familiar face behind a local newspaper. It was my new friend, Carlos Santana. I ended up staring at him (out of curiousity; I wasn't checking him out). And then I forgot I was staring at him. He looked right back at me probably wondering whay I was staring. Yes, I was caught. And no, it was not Carlos Santana. Not even close. But I had the look-a-like Carlos staring at me because I was curious. I wanted to ask him what it felt like to be Carlos Santana but I was in a library and my wit at that moment wasn't very quick.
And by the way, he was the perfect Monet. He looked like the real thing from far away, but the closer I got, he was nowhere near what I thought he was.
Monday, February 9, 2009
So this was taken in Palm Springs. This dude (ette) had a large crowd listening to his 'music'. Sorry, I don't believe that an electric violin with a back-up tape qualifies. Kenny G is even better then this guy. And dare I say it, even John Tesh. And how did (s)he even 'entertain' enough to draw a large crowd.
Wait, I forgot. Palm Springs. It was too dark for golf so the older people had to be 'entertained' somehow? This is my only theory. I don't have another explanation because frankly I don't care. Okay, so maybe I do care a bit, especially when I admit that Kenny G and John Tesh are better than this guy.
Maybe, he should try out for the next 300 movie. The "Behind The Music" special if all of them hadn't died. You know the one, that shows all the Spartans as older men with black capes, and growing out their hair just because they felt frisky that day. No electric violins needed.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Anyway, all of the rides are exciting and fun to me even though I've been on them a several times. Granted, there aren't crazy roller coasters but it's still fun.
I do have one quip with Disneyland however. I HATE Small World. Now, I don't hate a lot of things, but Small World is right up there with seal clubbers and Ann Coulter. In lieu of Small World opening after a long and absolutely wonderful absence, I have included a photo of me staring aimlessly at the puppet-like atmosphere.
Now, here I am wondering why the hell I'm looking at these wonderfully recreated cardboard flowers and expertly animated puppets. I'm sure this is halfway through the ride ahem, torture chamber experiment. Now halfway is 10 minutes. Yes, 10. Now some may claim that the ride is only 15 minutes long, but beware because to anyone sane it's actually 20 minutes. 20 minutes of the same song over and over and over again. No exaggerations. I'm not joking.
Like I said, it's on my hate list. I secretly wished (like full on shooting star wished) that while the ride was shut down there was some sort of freak accident. Fire, flood, volcano. Anything. But unfortunately whomever told me that shooting star wishes always come true was lying. Small World still opened to the public once again to torture future generations to come.
And on another note, one reason that the ride shut down to begin with was because they needed to remodel the boats. The boats were being weighed down too much because the people riding the boats were getting heavier and heavier. Congratulations America. So with that, Disneyland added an inch of water to the moat that the boats float in. Apparently it solved the probem. I think I'm going to drain the water completely from the moat so the ride will have to be shut down again. Maybe this time for good?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Moving on. I personally believe these people are discussing the purple tulips in their field of view. They are whispering however because they believe the woman behind them is a spy. You see, the peace sign is an international sign for 'spy.' (Look it up, and if you can't find it, don't panic. Remember, the international word for 'spy' is a long kept CIA secret therefore you won't be able to look it up.)
See, purple tulips are a rarity in the country where the man and woman come from. Purple tulips mean great fortune and money in this other country. They are worth more than gold and sell on the black market for hundreds more.
The large camera is actually a transport devise for tulip stems, seeds and stamens. (Why stamens? Because they can.) These people will then use the tulip parts and plant them making thousands more than the original parts they had. These people will be millionaires if all goes to plan.
I do believe the plan is for these two to pretend like tourists and when nobody is looking, take samples of the prized purple tulip. They will then continue to walk around the museum. All around are lookouts for these tulip takers. All the lookouts have large cameras and wear ridiculous polo shirts. Standard protocol. And the perfect getaway. Everyone gets into a large Mercades M Class and takes off onto the highway.
The perfect plan.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Participate in an archeological dig.
Write a novel.
Visit each continent at least once.
Get my Masters. (the field is yet to be determined)
Learn to surf.
Stay at an incredibly fancy hotel and not worry about how much it costs.
Dye my hair blonde. (even if it's only for a week)
Drink afternoon tea in London while looking at Buckingham Palace.
Coach a volleyball team.
Go on an African safari.
Go to every Smithsonian museum in Washington D.C.
Participate in a game of cricket.
See a president be sworn in.
Learn to drive a stick.
They are indeed random, but oddly, equally important. I think another one should
say 'Get out of Yucca Valley (again)'.
And keeping with the complete randomness, a pic of NYC. It's me walking on the Brooklyn Bridge taking a pic of a couple of my friends (the two in black directly in front of me). The old dude to the left isn't one of them. Let's call him Bruce. All right, so Bruce took the afternoon off work at the stock exchange downtown to fetch some lunch. See, his thought process is that if he walks across the bridge, then he's worked off enough calories to enjoy a large slice of Brooklyn pizza. You go Bruce.
We won't judge you because of the shirt you're wearing. Okay, maybe we will. Hon, light blue doesn't go with your skin color. Tomorrow morning when you wake up, ask your wife which color looks best. Guaranteed she won't say light blue. And maybe you'll get that promotion you've been after at the exchange.
Or maybe, you'll just eat your pizza, take the subway to your tiny apartment and open your closet to only reveal light blue shirts. Hey, we all can't be perfect.