My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Got this from the garbage I hauled out of a job the other day. Sold it for ten dollars. It appeared to be a child’s size bed of nails.

(photo courtesy girlfriend)

36 years it took. Motorcycles on my underpants!

Learned aluminum has a grain today. Leo says it can break if you bend it across the grain.

At the liquor store on the corner they sell an $11 magazine of Japanese (I think) fingernail styles. Awesome.

Clement Street is an Asian street here in SF. The shops were in full swing on the 25th and this guy wheeled out a garbage bin full of pig fat for the reindeer.

Photo courtesy girlfriend

Me and a Flagpole cooked a turkey for Christmas. You get four gallons of vegetable oil and a defrosted bird no bigger than 14 pounds and go to town. Check the Internet for awesome flash fire accidents involving this method.

We cut the gas off and dropped Tom in then cranked the heat back up. Easy.

This is a cribbage board I made for my Dad. The “S” in his ear marks the skunk. I made a deck of cards for my Mom, so they can play together.

I hope to get these in the mail monday…

got high on coke and wrote a poem.

Anyone out there get down with one of these this year after Christmas dinner?

Christmas sure is merry this year. Doug wanted to drop acid and walk around the nearly deserted streets of the city. Instead we played with filters on his camera.

photo posted from my iPhone

When’s Christmas over for you? For me it’s when they load the plywood Santa on the flatbed at the Christmas tree lot and drive away, perhaps back to the elf shop from whence they came in the North Pole.

Perhaps the joy is unholy, as its derived from misapplied prescription drugs and a case of winter lager. But can it be wholly counterfeit? Why not experiment this Christmas.

The little boy asked why Santa died for our sins. It was hard to explain. Everyone in the room had forgotten themselves.

Cal, the neighbor, installed new central heating. He cut away the sheet metal to attach an air intake. “Put a blanket or something over the motor so metal chunks don’t fall in and destroy it.” That’s a fine bit of advice.

There is a large brass belt buckle in the display case at the vintage store. “Spirit of ’76″ it reads. A small 17 sits above 19 in front of the ’76. The Spirit of 1776 was Democracy. It was revolutionary to demand independence, to want a loose union of states where representatives were elected by voters. I was a child in 1976, and bicentennial fervor in the air still sticks in my memory. The little village of Greenland New Hampshire put on Summerfest in July to celebrate our nation. Men and women dressed up in Revolutionary War costumes and made camp in the field between the grade school and the cemetery.

My brass buckle has a Ford truck on it, and I remember buying feathered roach clips from some traveling grifter who was on the Summerfest circuit. I was seven maybe. Had no idea. Just wanted to hang them off my jean jacket. Two canons stood dormant, having been dragged to the grassy area in front of the school after World War II. I climbed up on one and wondered when I could go to war.

This piece of grass isn’t stuck in my windshield, it’s growing there.

Found an old bedding catalogue, but the cover was missing. Don’t know the date or the company name, but this San Francisco bedspread will set you back $194.99. I also found a close approximation of the sun bedspread my cousin had on his waterbed in 6th grade.

Seems like people make friends with people who speak at the same pace as they do. Those who talk slower than you can be frustrating and you find yourself trying to finish their thoughts just to speed things up. Fast talkers make you suspicious, they’re probably smarter than you and gonna hustle you.
Then there are people who make no sense at any speed. Like whoever named the shop in the photo above.