Monthly Archives: February 2012
This has not been the best week of my life. If they were to do a breakdown of the “Best Of” moments from Kenny’s life, this would not be among them. If they were also doing the “Worst Of” moments from Kenny’s life, this would still not be on the countdown. It is just a week in which I have been blessed with the influenza. When inquired about my temperature and status I could be mistaken for a radio station. “What’s your temperature?” I answer with, “102.1 K-W-J!” Yes, it is crucial that I say my initials after I give my temperature and say it in my best disc jockey impersonation. So this started Monday, and I went to see the doctor on Wednesday. The medical assistant escorted me to a room and began to question me. The questions were the usual basic questions and then she blindsided me with a pretty hefty one. She asked, “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how sick do you feel based on your entire life experience?” I did not know what to say. There is a lot to take into consideration. The first thing I thought was if I answer ten do I get more drugs? Unfortunately, that was not the case. I was given no drugs. After being treated like I had the H1N1 virus, with all the masks coming at me, the doctor concluded that I was suffering from strand A influenza. Today is Friday and I believe I am coming to the end of its effects. Took a little longer, but better late than never (A quote that derived from a pregnancy scare.)
I cannot remember the last time I had the flu. I do not usually get sick. It has cost me two days of work, but luckily it happened during a time where I am not in school. Which by the way, it feels amazing to not have the weekly stress of having to read four to five hundred pages a week and write two to three thousand word papers every month. Although I do want to go back to school to try something out. I want to be given the assignment of writing a three thousand word paper. When the assignment is due I will hand in one paper with three pictures on it and at the bottom it will read, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I am curious as to how this would go over. Alas, that idea will have to wait.
So like I said, it is neither the best week nor the worst week. Hopefully the coming days and week will improve. Maybe I will be lucky enough to get a picture and some new music. That is contingent on certain things happening, which is quite a difficult task all to itself, but I will keep trying.
This blog is going to be short and simplistically complicated. Or am I just being moronic?…Oxymoronic.
I have been thinking as of late…and early. Another great idea has been percolating through the creases of my mind. It is, for lack of a better word, flabbergasting.
Side note: I have always liked the term “lack of a better word,” but then I started to contemplate a scenario unfolding. What if an onlooker was evaluating an artist’s work and the onlooker responded to it by saying, “Hm. For lack of a better word, your art his horrific.” In a normal situation the artist would be insulted and hurt, but what the onlooker truly meant was that his artwork was beautiful, but he could not generate a better word. The only word he could produce was horrific; for lack of a better word.
Marijuana is a popular commodity in California. The bustling streets of urban centers like San Francisco and Oakland have an abundance of medical marijuana facilities. Recently I have been thinking of business opportunities and medical marijuana has had me visualizing green, literally. I do not know much about the business, but during my short stint of sixteen hours in Jamaica I have secured a way to deliver in a creative fashion. In Jamaica, men sell marijuana from behind these brick walls with a small window. At least that is how I witnessed deals go down on location. This method worked efficiently and those who wanted to indulge in marijuana activities were able to purchase content from this small window. So with that in mind, I give you my idea.
If ever I were to open a medical marijuana shop it would be located in Berkeley, California. It would incorporate the architecture that was present in Jamaican deals. Essentially, it would be a booth with a window that would provide the equivalent of what is deemed “fast-food service” to medical marijuana users. Its name: EndoWindow. It would also be an innuendo for I am hinting at one thing while saying another. Marijuana and wordplay. A powerful one-two green punch.
I usually do not blog about my day. They tend to be mundane if absent from the mind spin I place on it, but today had some peculiar junctures that I would like to inject into my blog of junk. So let’s begin the walk-through.
9:00 A.M. – I wake up
10:37 A.M. – Landlady comes over for an inspection of our house. Interesting to say the least, well, and the most.
12:42 P.M. – I go outside to make a call.
Now usually I do not leave the house to make phone calls, but my cell phone reception was not only 0 bars, but there were negative bars. So I went outside for a quick five minute phone call. After I had completed my call I returned to the door I refer to as front and found that it had been locked. “Not a big deal…” I thought to myself. Two of my roommates were home; surely one of them would let me in. I proceeded to knock on the door and ring the doorbell. No response. I called one roommate. No response. I called the other roommate. No response. I tried knocking and ringing the doorbell again. No response. In a scenario like this, one would think that my roommates were having a little fun and locking me out as a joke. I would have accepted that, but it was not the case. After about ten minutes of standing outside one roommate finally opens the door. He yells back inside the house, “Dude, it’s Kenny! Quit tripping balls!” Apparently my other roommate is so paranoid that he believed someone was trying to break into the house at noon and thought ringing the doorbells and knocking on doors was a surefire way of burglary. Come on now! This twenty-something year old guy runs up stairs and disturbs my other roommate, who was taking a shower, and tells him he thinks someone is trying to break in and that he should go check it out. Wow. I was amazed. I have been suspicious about his activity, but now even more so due to his paranoia. If I was an Australian forum blogger I would be saying: W-T-F mate!
2:43 P.M. – I go for a run. I make sure to bring my keys.
4:16 P.M. – I get ready for work.
5:00 P.M. – I am at work.
Let me stop right here and just say something. I work in retail. As a cashier I see people sign off on their purchase. Old people are the worst at this. For some reason they believe when a purchase requires a signature that it is a calligraphy competition. What should be a quick drag on a sig (cig), turns into a whole flipping carton. (Aww. Wordplay. I love it. Gets me going. Better yet, foreword play.) Old people take forever to sign their name and when they are done, they tell me that the machine makes their signature all scribbly and that it is hard to read. First of all, you are old. If I gave you the best pen and paper your signature would still look like vital monitor during a seizure. Let’s face it. The only time you will have the ability to produce a straight line is when you flat line.
8:53 P.M. – I go outside to collect carts.
I hate cart runs with a passion. I can’t wait until I never have to do them again, and that day is quickly upon us. In the meantime, I am forced into the position of cart-getter and so I do it. Today, as I was getting carts, I was approached by a man. This man walked a good three hundred feet to reach me. He was a bald man with a lazy eye and he asked me, “Do you know which way is up?” I responded, “Yes.” He then proceeded to ask the question again; and I said yes. His face was as straight as can be and he did not seem like he was joking. I also possess an exceptional straight face and kept it during this conversation. He then pointed to some ladies walking into the store and asked me if maybe they knew what direction was up. As I stood there staring at him. He turned around and walked back to his car (which was a normal looking car) and drove off. Now I wish these situations would happen when I am not working and free to say as I please.
“Do you know which way is up?”
No, sorry. Ask the Jefferson’s. I heard they moved on it.
“Do you know which way is up?”
It is the way your right eye is pointing right now.
“Do you know which way is up?”
I think you should just focus on which way is forward for right now.
It was a weird conversation. I am still not sure what he wanted, or what response he was hoping to achieve, but apparently I did not answer the question in the detail that he wanted it answered.
9:33 P.M. – Off of work.
11:52 P.M. – Writing this blog.
We all love music. Well, at least that is my belief. Even the deaf love some good, good, good, good vibrations. I have never met anyone who has despised all musical intonation. There could very well be one person or a congregation of people who hate music. Maybe it is some religious act. In which case their church sermons would blow; and I am not talking about a whistling fashion because that would not be allowed. We all know singing is the best part of church. But I digress…
People are infatuated with the idea of sharing music too. When you learn of a new artist or band that has you raping the repeat button like you are Ted Bundy, you want to bestow upon the world this eargasm. It is not enough to notify your friends about a new sound, no we take our music to the streets. Cars offer perfect opportunities to impose one’s musical buds of taste upon strangers. I know I am guilty of this. I take advantage of the traffic jam to introduce a jam to an unsuspecting crowd. I’ll roll down my window and turn up the decibels; and do as Soul T says: I let the beat drop. I realize this is an inefficient way of spreading music. The only time I am interested in what someone else is listening to in their car is when it is a song that I know. I am never like, “Oh wow, what song is that car listening to? It is fantastical!” In most cases I just turn my music up louder.
Nevertheless there are those, who use their car to diffuse their style of music. Some people do not only want you to hear their music, they want you to feel it. This is mostly hip-hop oriented. While I am a huge fan of hip-hop, I do not understand why people like to blast the bass to such extremes. I cannot even hear the actual music and if I wanted to feel that vibration through my body I would just go to Brookstone and sit in one of their massage chairs. Then again they are always broken. Still, I do not understand why it needs to be so loud. If someone is going to have their music that loud, I would like to be able to understand what it is.
So better then blasting my own music really loud or others bass tone deafening America, I want to instill my music in another fashion. FM Transmitters. For those of us who do not have an AUX cord to hook our iPod directly to our speakers, we use FM Transmitters. All I need is an amped up FM Transmitter tuned to a popular radio station and anyone within my radius will be forced to listen to what I play on my iPod. I have tried it with the transmitter I have now and I know that it can be done. I just need to do it. It could actually be really good for advertising too. Another money maker. Not only will everyone know how awesome Broken Bells are, but I will get paid in the process.
Two side notes
1. Everyone says that they listen to a bit of everything. Or that they have a bit of everything on their iPod. This is a lie. Everything is a lot…I mean, think about it. It’s everything. There is no way you have everything on your iPod. Or that you listen to everything. You sir or madam are a liar. I have recently been introduced to more Indie Rock. Broken Bells, The Black Keys, M83, Vampire Weekend, XX, Massive Attack, Sleigh Bells, White Lies, etc…I listen to a lot of different stuff, but seeing as I did not listen to any of this. I had not listened to everything. Plus, that is just a horrible answer when someone asks what type of music you like. So come up with something creative. When someone asks what music you like, tell them you are strictly into polka.
2. Valentine’s Day is among us. The day of love. Some of you may be starting up new relations, others may be ending them. This advice is good for all. When choosing your song as a couple, choose a song that you hate. This way when things go awry in your relationship, you have not ruined a good song. While this is not in the Valentine spirit, you may be thinking, hm, this is a good idea. I concur. It is. I am full of them. Always thinking. =)
In case I do not post again before the fourteenth. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Keep it artificial. Peace.