i am disillusioned and disappointed in the internet. it seems every fetish conceivable to man has a web site dedicated to the topic for a small monthly fee. except one. mine.

the nape of the neck is the sexiest part of a woman. I can not tell you why. perhaps some bizarre childhood event crossed a few wires in my brain and now i am a freak. now before y'all start emailing weird links to me, i have no interest in vampire sex or strangulation. kind of like star trek fans. to the casual observer they are all the same, but to a true trekkie, there is a world of difference between fans of the original and fans of deep space nine. my fetish is simple, just a plain naked neck.

i have shared this interest with my wife. she doesn't get it, and believes it to be a little weird. She would sooner don rubber swim fins, a plaid school girl skirt, and a sombrero than cut her hair short to reveal her neck. unfortunately Mexican deep-sea diving school girls do nothing for me.

so, jug-head plan #37 to get rich quick, is to create a subscription based, neck fetish porn site. i might not get rich, but it will be fun. potential models should email their neck portfolios to me immediately.

speaking of momentarily forgetting where you are or what is un-acceptable behavior...

during my senior year in high school, most anywhere i went i was accompanied by my girlfriend. when driving i would often rest my right hand on her knee as all love sick high school kids do.

one rare day without my girlfriend, my best buddy and i were driving to a game. instinctually i reached over and put my hand on his knee. it was a full second before i realize what i was doing. i quickly moved my hand from his knee to the manual gear shift knob.

"uh,... sorry about that, i was looking for the shifter." was the best excuse i could utter.

as a homophobic teenage boy, still slightly confused by the whole sexuality thing, this was probably the 2nd worst mistake a guy could make (the worst is being the victim of a random, ill timed engorgement in the boys locker room. i still thank god daily it never happened to me).

many years have passed, we have never spoke of that moment.

in 1987 the macintosh was just an infant and i was 21. we met in the computer art lab and together we made this. notice the aliased (jaggy) type. i used the mac to set type and traditional cut and paste to do layout. this was cutting edge in it's day.

even less developed (than the mac) was my sense of humor. oh well, it seemed funny at the time.

the birthday party was great,.. i think. memory is the first thing to go.

his fingers ran up and down his ear. they were searching for mutant hairs growing where they shouldn't. when the fingers found one, they gathered around it and extracted it from it's root.

he would then spend a few minutes visually inspecting the hair. upon passing the inspection, the fingers delivered the mutant hair to his mouth. after a few minutes the fingers would continue their search and repeat the process.

this activity consumed two hours of a three hour flight. my wife and i watched in horror, she kept the air sickness bag within easy reach. we were both repulsed, but could not stop watching.

i caught only a glimpse of the person boarding as the elevator doors closed. crap. missing the elevator on the basement floor means up to a 5 minute wait for the next one.

i pushed the "up" button resigned to an extended wait. within 10 seconds i was startled by the ding and the elevator doors opening.

my first thought was that i must have pressed the button before the elevator ever departed.

i stepped into an empty elevator. how could it be empty!? not enough time had passed for the elevator to travel any where and return so quickly. where did the person go?

before reaching the 5th floor i had formulated a theory. the company has gone through some messy lay offs recently and some harsh treatment from the press for it. the company is now vaporizing employees in the elevators. clean, quiet, and simple. i was unaware vaporizing technology was so advanced.

elevators are strange places here.

i used to fear lay offs, now i fear the elevator.

my kids can identify the days of the week by name and in order. not by the proper day names, rather the names they have given the days.

i am giving up teaching the proper names. i am tired and their names seem to work fine. so, i would like you all to join me in adopting their names to avoid the pain of me teaching and them learning the proper day names.

the day formerly known as Sunday is now "donut day"
the day formerly known as Monday is now "daddy goes to work day"
the day formerly known as Tuesday is now "play group day"
the day formerly known as Wednesday is now "swimming day"
the day formerly known as Thursday is now "daddy's drunk again day"
the day formerly known as Friday is now "justice league day"
the day formerly known as Saturday is now "daddy stays home day"

i understand most calender will need to be reprinted, but they will be out of date in 6 months any way. thank you for your co-opperation.

the last time i played tag was at my 5th birthday party.

i was it.

i quickly identified the weakest of the herd, davey. our eyes met and he froze momentarily as the rest of the boys nervously dispersed.

davey was no match. the chase was on. he ran with open palms as if he was paddling the air around him for more speed but it didn't work. it only exaggerated his sissy form.

he was running forward but was looking back at me and giggling maniacally. i don't think he ever saw the bbq grill (the kind cemented into the ground). the sound of his skull hitting the hollow, empty grill resonated like an ill tuned gong.

red ran from the gash in his forehead and into the grass. it was easy to tag him as he lay on the ground.

party over. mom put davey and i in the back seat of the car. we stopped to pick up his mother on the way to the hospital. davey's mom asked what kind of birthday party this was and how could my mother ever let this happen. she swore at my mom several times.

one of my birthday gifts was a tin of flesh colored waxy movie makeup. in the back seat, i formed it into a gash shape similar to davey's and pressed it to my forehead so i could be like davey. we laughed.

so anyway, today i was tagged . i perused the list of dfw blogs for the sickly and weak. natural selection pointed to chris. fueled by coffee and cigarettes his movement may be twitchy and unpredictable, but stamina will be a problem. the texas plains are expansive.

chris, clench your fists when you run and watch out for the grill.

um, ... uh, .... wha?

it's bread and circuses time! maybe another tax rebate, or perhaps a intern scandal to entertain us!

headlines captured from Salon.com 7.22.02

man, william s. burroughs used to hang out with jack keruac, allen ginsburg, bob dylan, robbie robertson, neal cassady, ken kesey, lawrence ferlinghetti, and dennis hopper.

my friends suck.

�i shaved my head again� last night, but missed a spot in the back. i can always depend on my co-workers to point out lapses in personal grooming.

I called home, and told her to pack up the boys and the electric razor and meet me half way at burger king.

she did, and finished my haircut in the parking lot with the kids in tow.

how redneck is that!?

she also told me to jump off my wallet and get the 8 dollar special at super cuts next time. whatever.

well, the jig is up. i had a feeling it would be eventually, can't keep a secret on the internet.

as a good writer/reporter should, he (not Art Bell) discovered this. he let me know via email recently. he had used a drawing and information i had provided him in an article he wrote.

i don't think he was too upset, he just wanted to let me know he knew. he viewed it as "just a little ego gratification stoked by a few beers." which i must say is probably very accurate (except it might have been more than a "few" beers). point in case, isn't the whole blogging thing about ego gratification (written with tongue sort of in cheek)?

he claims to be a great fan of people that do hoaxes well (a category not including me) and he provided me with a great link. something for me to aspire to, i guess.

i guess i will pull the site down, some of Art's fans may be offended. there was never a malicious intent to my actions but some may not share my sense of humor. so, if you missed it, and are curious, pull me aside at the next dfwblogs happy hour and i will tell you all about a creature known as chilliwack.

redisign this site before the movie signs is released and crop circles are all the rage.

back in the day, i was a good dancer. "the day" was back in 1985 and it was literally a day. i think it was september 23rd. i could skank to fisbone and pogo to devo. i even created a hybrid of the two dances specifically for ant music. that was long ago.

now the only dances i do are impromptu goofy dances of my own invention (the bone dance, the old man shuffle, the paraplegic bird, etc.) to entertain the boys. sometimes the dances actually include music. music usually sung by the muppets.

the wife an i recently went on a getaway weekend with a few other couples and no kids. we ended up at a dance club. not aware that my dancing skills have greatly diminished, it seemed like a good idea at the time. it had been a while since i had been to a dance club.

there is a new dance craze sweeping the clubs. for those of you that have not seen "when girls go wild" i will attempt to describe it to you.

the female places her hands on her knees, extends her backside and gyrates it to the beat. this type of stance and motion can potentially lead to pregnancy and/or a dislocated ass. many women avoid the dislocated ass by having counter weights of silicon installed for balance.

the male (or sometimes a pseudo bi-curious female trying to attract male attention) stands directly behind the fore mentioned gyrating pooper. he puts his left hand on the left cheek and his right hand in the air making a circular motion as if he is about to rope a calf, occasionally bringing it down to slap ass. he turns his head side to side with the motion of a boble head doll.

i might try this dance, but i am not very good at sex (except for twice).

i went to the dance floor confidently, but immediately had a hard time not breaking into a goofy dance developed for the boys. i had forgot how to dance. around me the distraction of silicon trying to bust free from it's confines and the simulated sex was too great. i returned to the table.

i sat at the table waiting for elmo to sing Be Doodle Dee Dum, that was when i would bust a move and show those youngins how to really shake it down. alas the opportunity never arrived.

i am hoping the divorce court judge is male. only another man will understand this man's relationship with his penny jar. a penny jar that will be the sole reason for the divorce.

at the end of every day, the coins in my pockets are dropped into my penny jar. the average daily donation is less than 37 cents. mostly pennies, a few nickels and dimes, and on very rare occasion a quarter. i consider quarters to be big money and usually put them back in my pocket the next morning.

the penny jar is a glass milk bottle that resides on my dresser, surrounded by other manly things. my wife claims it is as much hers as mine because she occasionally contributes to the jar. i once saw her donate a small nut-bolt-washer combination.

the penny jar has never reached full fruition. at three quarters full she takes the jar (without permission) to the grocery store and dumps it in a counting machine. she then takes that money and purchases low fat chips, process cheese food, frozen yogurt, and miracle whip light. shit i would never buy.

penny jar money is meant to be spent on one's self. little out of the ordinary bonuses like an import beer, pornography, 2 dollar wagers on the ponies, sharpie pens or a mexican wrestling mask.

never will i experience the pride of a full penny jar as when i was a bachelor. knowing this makes me feel unfinished or interrupted. each coin is a step in an incredible journey of discipline and time. filling the jar requires the proper mind set, it is a marathon not a sprint. completing a jar is bitter sweet, a payoff followed by the daunting task of refilling the jar.

i think she does it as a constant reminder that she is in charge of the finances.

it took 3 pushes before finally hearing the trunk latch click. as i drove, i feared the latch might pop under the strain and spew luggage like spring snakes from those obviously prank mixed nuts cans.

the wife and i spent the first 10 miles running through a last minute check list. curling iron? unplugged. back door locked? mail collection? neighbor. air conditioning? off. cat, deceased.

from the back seat the boys fired endless rounds of cliches as the miles rolled by.

"dad, are we there yet?"
"dad, how much longer?"
"dad, i gotta pee"
"dad, he's on my side!"
"dad, he's looking at me again!"
"dad, macdonalds!"
"dad, can we go home?"
"dad, i forgot..."
"dad, what's that smell?"
"dad, the duct tape makes it hard to talk"

an invisible pot hole caused my wife to spill hot coffee in her lap. she claimed i did it on purpose and refused to speak to me for several miles (not really a bad thing).

son one amazingly managed to smear his face, hands and car seat with more chocolate that what the chocolate chip granola bar actually contained.

son two decided the journey was a great time to practice soccer kicks into the back of my seat.

to pass the time, i suggested we play "the quiet game", the boys immediately disqualified themselves.

exhausted and unable to drive another mile, we reached our destination,... the airport. 38 miles down, 2372 to go.

rumors of lay offs swirled the day my 2 week vacation began. i spent 2 weeks worrying i might not have a job upon my return.

i am back in the office today. more emails and voicemails than you can shake a stick at.

i wish i had been laid off.

i am off to the land from whence i came. a land known as michigan.

a much needed vacation.

i have given the keys to ultramicroscopic to grant. everyone this is grant. grant this is everyone.

grant may post, he may not, but he is watching.

i reached into the darkness under my desk feeling for the zip disk on top of my mac g3 case. my fingers encountered some thing very alien and unexpected.

quick and sudden surprised confusion, like when you take a sip of water expecting it to be milk. not sure what it is, but very sure of what it is not. in the briefest moment your brain recognizes the texture, weight, shape to be very wrong. my fingertips had detected some thing slight, some thing delicate yet brittle.

as i quickly retract my hand, i hear some thing gently but solidly land on the carpet floor. i froze, slightly scared to find out what it was. the creative department is dimly lit to reduce monitor glare. the space under the desks could be used for mushroom farming. i pull the microsoft schwag pen light from my drawer to investigate.

the zip disk is on top of the g3 case. whatever it was dropped behind the g3. half under my desk on hands and knees i flaunt ass crack to anyone who is interested. slowly sweeping the floor with the pen light i catch a glimpse of two bug eyes the size of peas. the flight instinct causes me to smash my head into the underside of my desk. i sat on the floor feeling stupid for scaring so easy. i pull the g4 aside to find a giant dragonfly.

he was magnificent. obviously he had been mounted by some one who knew what they were doing. perfectly preserved with his wings spread perpendicular to his body. it was the largest one i had ever seen, possessing a five inch wingspan. his segmented body was a cool metallic greenish blue. the extra long tail was necessary to offset the weight of the two large spherical eyes. he looked like a super futuristic evil helicopter of some sort.

it has been over two years since i found him. the prankster is yet to reveal himself. such an odd prank. why was the dragon fly mounted in such perfect form?

thanks to witold riedel for reminding me of this story! read about his find!

sometimes i confuse acceptable behavior at home with unacceptable behavior at work.

in preparation for an impending monster yawn, a production artist pushed back from his desk leaned back as far as his chair would allow. arms unfurled, eyes clamped shut, mouth opened wide.

standard protocol at home is to insert your finger in the open mouth and wait for the victim to unknowingly close the mouth and gag on the pranksters finger. usually hilarity ensues and the boys fall over in fits of laughter.

the gaping mouth looked huge to me, like i could fit my whole fist inside. the target was so great and so easy i forgot i was at work. instinctually my fingers curled into a fist, except for one, pointer. pointer stood straight and knew exactly what to do. he leapt forward and dove into the abyss.

contact with pointer and the closing mouth shocked me back to reality. sudden panic. realization i am standing at work with my finger in a co-workers mouth.

not good. soon expecting harassment charges to end my career.