Reflections regarding an immaculately grown mustache that I murdered by shaving it off.

My mustache drove men to anger and caused women to fear for their purity.

Oh how I miss thee, dear friend.

This happens more than I'll ever admit.

Me: You’re really starting to agitate me. Why don’t you sit down and have a Coke and a smile.
Person: I don’t drink Coke.
Me: It’s of no consequence. What I was politely inferring was you hushing your mouth so do that now please.
Person: You’re impolite.
Me: A very astute observation. Do you find the keen sense useful?
Person: Quite.
Me: Observe this then, my son. [index finger pressed to lips in a shushing gesture] How do you feel about that?
Person: Not good.
Me: The desired outcome was achieved.
Person: Why do you do that?
Me: I do it out of love.
Person: I don’t get it.
Me: Not surprising.
Person: What’s happening here? Why are you having a fictional conversation with yourself?
Me: With the realization that I’m talking to myself, does responding to my questions make me crazy?
Person: You’ve knowingly been doing that this whole time.
Me: You are a very smart man.
Person: I am you and you are me. So thank you/me and you're/I'm welcome..
Me: Fascinating. I must confess you are a very handsome man.
Person: Funny I was just about to say the same thing.
Me: Then you most assuredly were going to comment about my manly pecs.
Person: I felt it requisite, yes.
Me: You, sir, are a specimen.
Person: Ditto.
Me: Did you just say ditto?
Person: Well I typed it but whatever. Semantics.
Me: The word ditto I cannot abide.
Person: It seems we’ve encountered a crossroad.
Me: Indeed. What gambit are you considering?
Person: I don’t feel it essential to divulge the details.
Me: Withholding now are we?
Person: It would seem as much.
Me: Stalemate?
Person: You concede so quickly and with minimal force applied. You remind me of a Frenchman I once knew. You know it’s really not much fun making fun of you when you are me.
Me: Agreed but think of the children. Not like the late Michael Jackson but like the collectors of children Angelina Jolie or Madonna would. Lovingly.
Person: Interesting suggestion. Normally at this point I would remind my opponent that he should not forget who is the better and that he ought to graciously bow out before I destroy him. Seeing as though you are my equal, I am on unfamiliar ground. A draw is equivalent to a loss so that can’t happen. What shall I/we do?

…to be continued…or not…we shall see…you don’t care…I don’t care…ellipsis…

A future conversation I may have with my wife.

“Honey, we should put in a deck,” my beautiful, sweet wife states after she inspected the back of the house and concluded it was lacking.

“Interesting selection of pronouns. Of the 8 or so options, you felt that one best fit the current situation. When I try to get someone to do something, I most commonly ask using the pronoun that would indicate them completing the task. Throwing in words that mean the work would be equally shared among those being implicated by the pronoun seems anomalous. Allow me a moment to elucidate the proper use of the word we. We is a combination of the pronouns you and I or an even larger grouping of people in which the person saying we is included. It does not mean your participation in the whole process is simply saying the task or job and I do everything.”

“Oh my word, I married a moron. Are you really that daft?”

“Yes honey. How this eluded you for so long eludes me. I’ll get to work on that deck right away. Thank you for entertaining the poor peasant you share a bed with."

“Is that hammering or you flapping gums?”

“I love you honey!”

Postscript: I will never talk like that to my wife. I simply tried to make a funny, fictional conversation. Failure is as bitter as it is easily accomplished for me.

Attention Vegetarians!

Cruelty to animals! Cruelty to animals! Carnivores are cruel to animals!

Guess what silly vegetarians? You are being cruel to animals too. In fact you are being crueler. You affect all animals and not just a small portion that humans eat. Allow me to explain because your nutrient deficient brains may not have the fuel to understand. If you cared about animals, you would not be a vegetarian.

There are two biological processes, photosynthesis and cellular respiration, that work together so perfectly they alone denote there is a God orchestrating things. We won’t delve into that discussion now though.

Photosynthesis is the conversion of water and carbon dioxide into sugars and oxygen. The process is powered by photons that originate from the sun. Sugars are synthesized from smaller compounds, water and carbon dioxide, anabolically. Breaking down the word photosynthesis into its prefix and suffix gives us photo- and -synthesis. Doing so essentially tells you what’s happening if that’s is easier for you to think about it. In summary, the starting materials are water, light and carbon dioxide. The products are sugar and oxygen.

Now let’s look at cellular respiration. I will not delineate the many steps comprising this process, as I didn’t when describing photosynthesis, but will focus on the inputs and outputs instead. Cellular respiration is effectively the opposite of photosynthesis except that our bodies do not emit light as a product. Our bodies take the products of photosynthesis, sugar and oxygen, and convert it into carbon dioxide and water.

Plants and animals live together symbiotically in what is known as mutualism, which means that both parties benefit from the interaction. Doesn’t that blow your mind that animals and plants are reciprocates and provide requisite food/materials for the other to subsist? Mind bottling as Chaz Michael Michaels would say.

So back to my original premise. Vegetarians are crueler to all animals than any meat eater. In a world that has errantly bought into the fallacy of global warming and is so concerned with carbon footprints, why would the would-be saviors of the earth, vegetarians, solely dine upon the living machines responsible for the conversion of carbon dioxide into breathable oxygen? When these supposed “do-gooders” only eat plants, they reduce the oxygen conversion centers responsible for providing oxygen to all animals and in turn make the air less oxygenated. Thanks guys. You eating more plants means lower quality air for everyone. To show my appreciation, I am going to eat a cow that will reduce methane emissions into the atmosphere while I club a baby seal with my free hand. The baby seal clubbing serves no real purpose other than showcasing my ambidexterity.*

Enjoy your beans and soy milk.

P.S. If you eat fish, you are not a vegetarian. Food for thought.

*I am thinking about starting a club for baby seals. I will call it Club Baby Seals. Anyone interested in joining?

What would you have me do, Mr. Hawking?

If I ever meet Stephen Hawking, I would do the robot while he spoke. When he mechanically asks what I am doing, I will tell him I am interpretively dancing his words.

Content? I suppose...if you have an imagination.

At the behest of absolutely no one, I Eric Harris, being of sound mind and of my own volition, offer this short story for your mental digestion. May the resultant bulimia be gentle and non-spastic. I have others I can post if anyone requests them.

Transformers Rule! (Written some time ago.)

My adventure began with a yearning desire to become the first owner of the Transformers DVD...

In order to become the first proprietor of this coveted DVD, I had to go to The Big Apple. All stores would be selling the DVD tomorrow morning but because of the time zone differentials, New York businesses would open earlier than the westward areas of this great nation. I would be there.

After careful research and many bribes to those with inside information, I found the name of the store opening first. Many are not privy to the underground world of store opening betting. It’s big business. Most believe that a store opens at the indicated time on the side of building. Most people are morons. There is much more that goes into opening a store than just a guy in a smock unlocking the doors. I have neither the time nor the inclination to go into the pertinent details. Use the Google machine for more info.

I needed to get the time off from work so I placed a call to my boss and feigned endometriosis. I complained of uterus cramps and Fallopian tube pains. I was given a few days to recover. To ensure that I would be the first patron of the store the next morning, camping out would be required. Camping requires provisions like a tent, 7.6 feet of twine, a king size inflatable mattress, an inflatable dresser for my effects, an inflatable mirror and so forth. I picked up the items and finished my other preparations.

Most people travel by plane, car or train. My preferred means of conveyance is a pogo stick. I loaded up my essentials and hopped toward Times Square. Two hours later I arrived on the outskirts and wasn’t even breathing hard. There were only 23 hours left until the store opened its doors for business. Adequate time to guarantee my position. I purchased a hot dog from a chatty street vendor then made my way to the heart of Times Square to secure my spot at the front of the soon to be developing line.

To my utter disappointment, I discovered I was to be second!! Someone had beaten me to the store’s entrance! And the stupid jerk was perched in a fold out chair reading a magazine. Many thoughts inundated my mind, none of which were virtuous. Was he here for another movie? Was he just hanging out? I hopped over, dismounted my pogo stick and tried to calm down. Maybe he was here for some other reason. I had to know.

“You here for the Transformers DVD or just a lazy door greeter with no name tag and sans tunic?” I asked in a jocular tone.

“Why the Transformers DVD of course. I saw the movie 17 times in the theater with my daughter and can’t wait to watch it at home with her. What a little dear. She’s terminally sick and doesn’t have much longer to live. She is in constant pain and is unable to use pain killers because of fatal allergic reactions. The only time my wife and I have seen her smile lately is when she watches Transformers. That’s why we’ve seen it 17 times. It would be more but the medical bills we’ve been incurring haven’t allowed us to go as often as we would like. I have been awaiting the release of the DVD for a long time so that we could play it over and over for her. You should see her, she smiles the entire movie but as soon as it ends her face returns to the contorted face of never ending pain. It’s such a miraculous sight to behold.”

I knew then that I would have to kill him. I had to become the first owner of the DVD. I also made a mental note to avoid any trivial conversation with this guy. No sob story was gonna stop me from achieving my goal.

Due to my experience as a deep cover special agent I am an adept assassin. You may think I'll need to kill you now because you know my secret. No. Unless you get mouthy. Then uh oh! Looks like someone had a nasty, untraceable accident. Oh that [insert your name here] was always so clumsy. Always slipping and falling on their head...blah blah blah. You get the idea. Mums the word or slippy, fally, ouchie.

With many different methods available at my disposal, I had to utilize a technique that would not draw attention. I decided to employ a sniper method. Looking around enabled me to locate the perfect spot atop one of the adjacent buildings. I quickly assembled my frilly, pink tent and inflated all my necessary equipment. It felt like home but with less pink. With exaggerated actions of fatigue, I told my neighbor I was going to take a snooze. He bought the subterfuge.

Within the confines of the tent, I began to silently drill through the concrete like Bugs Bunny does to dirt in cartoons. I tunneled a passage to a deserted alley and scaled the fire escape to the roof of the building I spotted earlier. The undeserving thief that stole my rightful place in line had no idea what I had planned for him. My yearning to be the first owner of the DVD was no longer a desire but a mandatory necessity that wouldn’t acquiesce. I no longer had a choice.

I opted to use a boomerang because it made no noise, would return to me leaving the police clueless as to the weapon used, and because the speed with which I would throw it would remain invisible to any spectating eye. Steadying my aim I expertly handled the boomerang. Just as I was releasing the Australian weapon of death a strong gust of wind arose and altered the angle of my throw. Being true to form, the boomerang arced around and began its journey back to its origin. I had thrown the boomerang with such a velocity that catching it was impossible. I anticipated it would slow down once it sliced through the thief below and would be only visible to my well trained eyes and expectant hands. Now that it hadn’t, I was in trouble. I couldn’t see the rapidly approaching boomerang. The best option I had was to duck for cover and reduce my exposed surface area to avoid contact.

I wasn’t quick enough. I felt the impact as the boomerang crashed into my throat. It would have killed a lesser man. I tried to emit a few select curse words but was unable to draw or expel breath. As I laid there prostrate struggling for air, I decided being first wasn’t worth taking this man’s life and widowing his wife and little girl. All I would need to do is trip him as the horde of people stampeded into the store and I would be home free. I successfully did so and smiled as he disappeared under the throng of people.

I can now say I am the first owner of the Transformers DVD.

To the guy who unwillingly supplied his body as a door mat to the throng of people, sorry about the medical bills. It could be worse. Your wife could be writing out a check for your funeral bill. You understand, right?

Here we go again.

I am astounded by the amount of hits the blog has received to date. I can only deduce that upon reading my words you find more value in your life after comparing your existence to mine and realize your situation could be worse. A lot worse. You could be me. And for that I am your ever humble servant. I will continue writing as often as I can. Please send your therapy and anti-depressant bills elsewhere. Writing is therapeutic for me so rest assured that the hits won’t stop once school starts. Posts will surely be less frequent so stagger your anti-depressant intake accordingly.

That while I can't say thank you enough for reading, I feel I must apologize for not giving you fair warning. Encouraging me is like giving a clumsy yet curious kid that has manifested a keen interest in explosions a flame thrower, fireworks, gas, some heavy naval ordnance, gunpowder and expecting him to come back with his limbs attached. No good can become of it. I am now apologizing and hope you can retroactively accept it as though I had done so from the onset.

Now to the task at hand, a reporting of the day's events.

Today’s adventure: Getting a new driver’s license then open a checking account at a local bank because that’s a no-no without a valid DL.

Stepping outside brought a pimp slap to my whole body so resolute I felt like I was on the business end of a battering ram. Not even Muhammad Ali in his prime could have dodged the blow. Humidity you cruel wench! I felt like a rotisserie chicken sweating in the cooker. Sweating like I was Richard Simmons listening to the oldies. Sweating like a whore in church. Sweating like Shaq at the foul line. You get the idea. Mental scales immediately weighed the importance of completing the tasks I hoped to accomplish today. I concluded that no task is so important that it can’t wait until fall when outside is tolerable. The climate here sucks every gram of “can do attitude” and replaces it with “what activity can I do that requires less exertion than sleeping.” It’s amazing anything gets done outdoors here.

Needing to be about the business of becoming a legal driver again I cowboyed up and beat a path to my car by karate chopping my way through the humidity. Sexy happens to me all day long, kiddos. I opened the car door and singed my burly eyebrows on the escaping heat. Worry not ladies they are still thick as sin. I sat down and realized it was a good thing I hadn’t felt compelled to adorn my usual daisy dukes. Otherwise I would have needed a skin graft for the back of my legs. I would have donated every molecule of skin my posterior legs had grown to the solar flare that was my black leather driver’s seat. My dermal layers would have instantly fused with the dermal layer of the cow that gave its flesh to make my car’s interior aesthetically pleasing. Thanks buddy. Oh and thanks for donating your muscles for my consumption too. A medium rare you or family member with minor seasoning always hits the spot. Anyway, the reason I know the leather and I would have become one was because it soon happened when I made the mistake of turning the steering wheel. My palms are now branded with the stitching pattern around the steering wheel. My hands are now contorted and beautiful like the Penguin’s in Batman. An apt mental depiction may be acquired from imagining a deformed flipper a dolphin incurred from a run in with a spinning propeller. Good thing my profession won’t require the use of my hands…oh shiii…[weeping, sobbing].

I gathered myself and popped a piece of gum in my mouth to eclipse the smell of burnt flesh. Arriving at the DMV I quickly learned there is no variance in DMV’s from state to state. They all universally function at speeds a sloth would deem unbearably slow. So very, very slow. With atypical patience, I pleasantly awaited my turn. I was able to determine how much time had elapsed by monitoring how much fluid escaped my armpits and spilled down my sides in 5 minute intervals. I've got the sweating thing down to a science. Five minutes resulted in a trickling stream. Ten minutes yielded a slow moving river. On and on until the output soon surpassed that of Niagara Falls. Moments before dehydration reduced me to a puddle of grease the gal called my name. I explained my predicament and said I was in need of a Kentucky driver’s license please. She politely asked for my previous DL, my SSN card and proof of address. I had two of the three required items. I inquired as to how I could furnish her with proof of address when I had yet to receive a piece of mail at my new address. Perhaps a copy of my freshly signed lease I proffered?

“Yes, that would work,” she replied.

“Excellent. Would you allow my apartment complex to fax over a copy,” I asked.

“No, but if you would make a copy of it and bring it in that would work.”

Failing to understand the difference between a copy of a document and a faxed copy of a document I sought enlightenment from her. Not sure if what she supplied me with can be considered a helpful response.

“There just is.” Even in her terse response I couldn’t help appreciate her saying it with a genuine smile and appreciation for my well being. Gotta love the south.

There just is, huh? I see. I felt I had just climbed a tall mountain seeking the answers to life’s mysteries and had obtained just that. I scratched my head to indicate total understanding. Just for kicks though I thought I would regurgitate what I had just learned. My hope was that upon hearing the words repeated the inoperable reasoning receptors in her head would somehow be stimulated. Then she would see the foolishness of her mandate and in turn actuate a favorable outcome for me.

“So I need to go back to my apartment complex office, get a copy of my lease and come back here rather than have modern electronics do it in infinitely less time?”

“Yes, if you want a valid DL.”

Some reasoning is so incontestably stupid you would be stupid to pursue further argument. Some of you may be wondering why I’m not still there going back and forth with the gal. At some point in my life, I learned it wasn’t worth it. Wish I would have learned the lesson as a know-it-all 17 year old instead of always seeking to verbally joust with my dad. All I gleaned from the many long hours of arguing is that arguing and arguing well only results in being grounded for a very long time. Not that I didn’t have many opportunities to keep the grounding to a minimum mind you. I felt it requisite to point out to my father that the only way he could win an argument with me is by grounding me. Strangely enough this would induce him to show just how badly he had lost by extending the grounding a few more days. How my spinal chord in the cervical area remains intact this day is a testament to my dad’s seemingly infinite patience. I would have obliged my son’s unspoken request for cephalic-body detachment without taking a second to consider the ramifications. No doubt I effected many of his hair follicles to jump ship prematurely. Sorry dad.

Day’s summary: Still no valid DL, no bank account open, some pool time, a fair amount of reading, US soccer team wins, another post for you to question why you’re wasting ocular energy and committing brain cell genocide by reading this filth, and lastly watched a movie with friends.

Things to hang my hat on: Studying begins earlier than anticipated. Tonight I get to learn the rules of driving the way Kentucky sees fit to enforce them.

So efficient you'd think I was German. Nein.

There will most likely be a dearth of updates once school starts so I figured I’d get some in while I can. Mostly because I enjoy writing and not because I think any of you are really interested in the updates. I’m so selfish. Also because unpacking makes me consider taking a butter knife to my wrists, I figured I would take a break so I don’t disappoint my family.

In my ever continuing quest to combine tasks and maximize time, I have begun a new practice that couples two cleaning related tasks. Allow me to first preface things.

Anyone not born and raised in Utah, Arizona, Nevada and any other desert state knows that humidity does not mesh well with creatures that use moisture release as a means of cooling their bodies. One would think with a knowledge of concentration gradients and with the outside air already containing so much moisture in Louisville that your body would not readily contribute any of its fluids but would rather try to absorb the outside moisture while retaining internal moisture to offset the moisture that leaves with exhalation. (That was a long sentence.) FALSE! The moisture in the air combined with the heat is the precise catalyst that makes my body unleash an ocean every time I step outside. Thankfully my sudoriferous glands don’t release a stinky component with the sweat or I’d be doubly repulsive.

That sure is great and nerdy, Eric, but you said there were two things you were combining. Will you please address the second task and do so in a much more concise manner?

Firstly, hold your horses, fictional personal asking questions, I’m getting there. Secondly, it’s my update, I will write it as I please. (Talking to myself in such a manner will undoubtedly gain me entrance to the loony bin soon. Can’t help it, this is what I do. Just wanted to make you aware of whom you’re dealing with.)

Anyhow…Washing clothes. Who likes doing it? I like the result of the undertaking but look forward to the task with disdain. My solution? Shower with my clothes on.

You see in Louisville your clothes will be completely drenched in a matter of femtoseconds anyway. Why delay the inevitable? Gone are the times you’ll worry about moisture stains. You’re already all wet, silly! No more worrying about embarrassing moisture collecting areas under the pits or under the chest for men with moobs. Gone too are the days of having to change loads of laundry in the washer. The clothes will be laundered the next time you shower in them. It’s so easy. No a caveman couldn’t do it. He has no basic knowledge of washers and dryers, let alone electricity. Man I hate those commercials! If I was the CEO of Geico, I would grab the advertising company representative that presented the caveman idea by the neck and belt loops and toss them in the street. Then I’d encourage my nephew Dre to ride over him repeatedly with his four-wheeler.

Don’t think I started this new practice because I’m an aspiring never-nude or what have you. It just seemed the most logical thing to do given my current climate and soon to be time restraints.

Until next time, folks. May next time provide you with content that doesn’t cause you to projectile vomit.

My 3 day move to Louisville from SLC.

After loading the Penske like I designed the game Tetris, my dad and I set off to Louisville from Salt Lake City early Wednesday morning. In fact so early I should rightly say it was night and not morning. An abbreviated accounting of daily events follows.

Day 1- Because mornings for me are spent battling the urge to re-succumb to sleep, my dad took the first driving shift. He quickly realized something I learned two days previous. Our truck had an impressive amount of giddy up. We passed our predicted day one progress by lunch time. To celebrate, my dad’s back up and quits on him like…ummm…like something prone to quitting for no reason. A Frenchman? Obviously I have a rare gift for simile. Many interstate travelers wondered what the H that yellow blur was on the road. A massive yellow jacket? Superman in a surprising yellow cape? No it was a Penske truck and accompanying tow dolly with me handling the rains giving it the what fer. Yee-haw!! Didn’t know a moving truck could scoot so fast.* Distance- 730 miles in 12 hours with stops.

Day 2- Dad’s back was still sassing him. I wanted to give him my leather belt so he could bite down on it every time his movements required its cooperation. Poor guy. Can’t thank him enough for making the trek with me. He made it a blast. I love that man. Saw so much corn passing through Nebraska I’m now a qualified expert. We continued making incredible time. Since we traversed a far greater distance than we could have supposed possible over two days, we decided to truncate the driving for the evening and watch game 7 of the NBA Finals. We should have kept on driving. Stupid Lakers. Distance- 600 miles in 10 hours with stops.

Day 3- Seeing as though we didn’t need to make tracks as quickly anymore, my dad and I gave the hotel’s bounteous continental breakfast a thorough working over. Bellies full and happy with our progress we once again boarded the rocket labeled Penske. After prognosticating how long it would take us to get into Louisville, my dad slightly depressed the accelerator. In that same instant our bodies experienced G forces only felt by fighter pilots and astronauts at take off. My internal organs have just barely begun peeling themselves off the back of my rib cage. In just a few short hours, we entered Louisville and were warmly welcomed by some neglected freeways that caused my car and the Penske to do their best impression of a child with ADHD on a hippity hop. Amazingly the suspension didn’t bottom out at all. They weren’t normal expansion cracks or insignificant potholes, they were craters and seemingly bottomless. I thought for sure I would open the rear door of the truck and find only the saw dust remnants of my furniture and items. Never could I have imagined the contents could have withstood such a jostling. Surprisingly nothing was damaged. Not even a scratch. A letter to my congressman about the piss poor quality of the inroads to Louisville seems in order.

In summary, trip was awesome, arrived safely and without incident, Penske trucks rule, my dad’s back sucks, I love Louisville, my dad is cooler than your dad and can beat up your sister, Lakers suck and I have a supernal gift for simile.

T minus 10 days and counting for nerdery to resume. Face!!

*Just to give you an idea of how fast we were moving, a beam of light left the starting gate the same time we did. It caught up with us two days after we reached Louisville. True story. No need to do the calculations.