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dead turtles and a half shell

About two weeks ago I found some pieces of broken turtle shell.  I decided to bring them home and wash those guys off.  Adopting a Native American attitude, (as opposed to my Naive American attitude), I decided that I should not let these jewels of nature go to waste.  I already occasionally sit Indian-style, so what the heck- Why not integrate some of their other cultural practices into my repertoire?  I went to college.  I should be well-rounded, right?

breakfast at Chic-fil-A

Today I almost blew up the lower portion of my parent's house.  Luckily they are 1,719 miles away and will NEVER find out.  Unfortunately this story has nothing to do with experiments from US Army's magnum opus: the TM 31-210 Improvised Munition Handbook.  The scare was caused by something a little less exciting and normally reserved for the AARP crowd.


I was trying to make a pot of tea. 

Thank you.

In the 9th grade my former self lived in a town of 35,000 dummies and attended an institution known as Galesburg High School.  Allah bestowed upon me the greatest of fortunes by assigning me an English teacher by the name of Andrew Chernin.  He had a very nonchalant, clumsy style, to a level that I almost interpreted as indifference.  Anyway, in one writing exercise that we would do in his class, which probably goes on in the majority of English classes, we were asked to concoct a story using all of our vocabulary words.

When I was an even littler tyke in Hurst, possibly what some waitstaff at Lupe's Tex-Mex in Bedford would call a "Litle Adrian", our omnipotent Budda blessed me with Miss Cochran.  She was my fifth grade teacher and first MILF crush, who would make up little stories which explained the definition of the word we were learning.  I remember ubiquitous and pariah being a couple of the words she added to our fifth grade lexicons.

Artist Profile: Justin Aerni

I have known Justin Aerni since high school.  I met him through my brother in our junior year and hit it off right away due to our mutual hate for everyone.  The first time I met him I invited him into the hot tub and tried to convince him I was gay.  I am pretty sure we both thought we would be dead by now, but as that naughty lil' Mother Gaia would have it, we are not.  And he is doing something productive with his life and creating a lot of art.

He was making art back then but not at the apocalypse-is-coming pace that he does now.  Just because he produces Andy-Warhol-style-quick doesn't mean that there is not an audience.  Last time I spoke with him he mentioned that he has collectors from as far away as Israel to as close as here in the US of A.  Not really sure where the hell Israel is, but I think Texas is still part of the US so I know some of my fellow countrymen are helping Justin's cause.    

goals

NOTE: I have turned this post into a page that can be found here.  Due to the morphing nature of goals, a separate page will be more conducive to organization than an oft-updated post.

It has come to my attention that goals are what aid people in making progress.  Last year I didn't have any and I did not make it very far.  The shining accomplishment of the year of two thousand and ten of Our Good Lord would be my acquisition of the power of chopsticks with my human survival coming a short second.  So my first goal on the one-way road to progress would be to make at least one goal.  Well wowzerz and holy moly stromboli because guess what and/or wtf is up?!  I just simultaneously created and met my first goal.  STFU and GTFO!  Nopes Snopes, I really did.

first postie, Posta

When I was working for a local school district there was a student named Posta.  This post is dedicated to her.  She was a young girl from the Congo who was really the only non Spanish speaker and the only black in the class and therefore was a natural outsider among the already outsiders.  At first there were a handful of problems because she thought everyone teamed up against her and this was only exacerbated by the fact that she had a very AD/HD-type personality.  After a couple of months the Spanish speakers all kind of settled in and just accepted the fact that she was a little crazy and she just accepted the fact that they were going to speak the only language they knew.

So really...enough with that.  This blog is called casi jubilado.  That means "almost retired" in Spanish.  I'm hoping with the money generated from AdSense on this mofo that I can be completely retired pretty soon.  Because, damn, Jeeves, my savings is running outs and I don't want to screw somebody by working for them for a very short period of time.