Money Wasted on Unneeded Bases, Bush Says
Money Wasted on Unneeded Wars, Steakbellie Says
I have three beautiful sons that are lucky enough to look like their Mother. I spend all of my time with those little bastards. I'm rated 18th in the World for Competitive Eating. It makes my Mom nervous, she thought I was going to be a Doctor.
Money Wasted on Unneeded Wars, Steakbellie Says
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In my head, I am fearsome
I stride accross intersections
I climb stairs two at a time
Look around
there are speeding trucks
potholes
baby carriages
Surely somebody needs saving
I am prepared to fight the enemy
right here
right now
on this street corner
next to the guy selling breakfast sandwiches
3 at a time
leave them tied up for the police to find
I'll stick a clever note on them
Rain beads up on my sunglasses
or crashes onto my leather jacket
everyone is aware that I can call down lightning strikes
if I really had to
I walk right down the middle, and everyone walks around me
Hot young girls look past my obvious flaws from blocks away
They pretend to ignore me when we pass
Then wipe away tears of regret
They're not bothered by my
receding hairline, my awkwardness, my gut, my age, my wife, my kids
they can sense that I've put together a hot list of songs on my ipod
and really, isnt that just what they're looking for?
Sorry girls
theres only one Mrs Steakbellie
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You've seen a woman like the one I'm talking about. She's older now, late 30's early 40's but still dresses like she did when she was 22 and hot. Her hair's in the same late 80's mess, and now she applies twice the makeup that she once did in order to cover up the train wreck she's become. Dressing like a 22 year old does not make you a 22 year old.
This particular lady was probably hot. You can tell because she acts like she still is, shuffling around in front of the other kids Dads, and then tossing her hair around and trying to catch them looking at her, because she's pretty sure that they are. Sure we're all aging and dealing with our own issues but it's kinda funny because this particular woman hit the wall pretty hard at one point and nobody told her. However blessed she was before, she has now completely swung the other way. She really believes she's a knockout.
Her husband has this big-ass unfortunate tattoo portrait of her on his shoulder, down his arm. The drawing is mediocre and stiff. His skin has aged, and the damage from the sun has caused the hard dark tattoed lines to blur. The face looks alittle jumbled now as his muscles arent as big as they once were and the skin is sagging. He's way proud of his trophy wife and displays this tattoo like an ownership paper for all to see with sleeveless black t-shirts year round. Kind of like when my Mom buys a new car and then drives around with that white paper in the back door window until it falls off.
In my head he's beaten up 50 guys who smiled back at her when she flirted with them at the Motley Crue concert when they played at JFK Stadium in 1986.
So the funny thing is, the poorly done tattoo gets more and more acurate as the years go on. When they are in the nursing home together the nurse will finnish changing his diaper and say "It's like a photo!"
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I think if they wouldnt screw up my family life, and if I could actually make money at them I'd do the following I'll add to it as I think of them:
Bike Messenger: I'd switch my drop-ins to bull-horns and ride my ass off. I love the idea of getting paid to ride, and I find it refreshing that it's as simple as "get to this address, then come back" I'd get the tights, the hat, and that crazy bag with the big walkie-talkie strapped on. Fuck you buddy, I'm coming through....
Flight Attendant: I waited tables for many years, I imagine it requires alot of the same ass-kissing skills. I'd travel the world, and be forced to meet new people! Plus I look good in a tie!
Fireman: I was a fire-watch at a refinery during my summers at college. Pretty much that mean I sttod in a concrete tank field baking in the sun while welders worked on pipes that were full of gasoline. If there was a problem, we were all dead, but by law I had to stand there with a charged 2.5 in fire hose. That part sucked but they gave me a week of training and putting out real fires and that was awesome. Whats cooler than being a fireman? You get to save people and kick down doors....
Garbage Man: This is a holdover from my early childhood. I thought it would be pretty cool to ride the back of the truck and jump on and off. I'd still do it...
Car Mechanic: I like solving mechanical problems....I love cars and engines....
Sniper: This add-on was from Birdy, but is something I've thought about before. Crawl on your belly for 3 days. Fire One Bullet. Crawl Back.
I dont necessarily like the idea of killing people, but I think it's something I would excel at. I'm a very simple and patient person, and very good with a rifle (I couldnt hit the ground with a handgun though, those things are useless to me) I like dirt and the smell of Cordite. I like simple goals and means...oh yeah chix, I like chix.
High-End Hair Stylist: I can cut hair, nothing fancy, and not women (yet). It's alot like scuplting. I think with a small amount of training, I could open a high-end hair salon. Some women pay $$$$ for the PERCEPTION that they are getting their hair styled by some famous designer. Black Slacks and a black T-shirt. Then a legion of women stlyists and wash girls. I'd have to put on my gay persona to make the whole thing kosher but I can swing with that sweetie. I think it would be more funny than fun, but it really is just the design of the salon and the attitude we'd sell. When I got laid off I thought about doing this at one point. It would have been the perfect time to change directions, but I was crunched for time and cash and scared.
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You'd think this is from the Onion
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My one friend who has a drinking & eating problem (get your own blog if you dont like how I describe you) has found a new hangout. Apparently there is a Dunkin Doughnuts located INSIDE a liquor store near his house.
Might I suggest a dozen doughnuts to go with that twelve pack? They could place a doughnut around every bottle and just sell it that way. His mom once punched me in the gut when she suspected that I had drunken some beer from her personal beer meister. My friend says she can tell by lifting the keg, if any is missing. I think that he's kidding.
So now he stops there TWICE a day instead of just on the way home. Acouple of beers and doughnuts for lunch and he's good to go!
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I had a boss that used to say that. I think I got bit today.
This is the same guy that quite often said the following:
"Fudgie, you got shit in your head" (often)
"She looks like she was rode hard, and put away wet"
"Quit fucking the Goats Ass and come over here"
"How bout a shot and a beer?" (often)
"I FORGOT more about this business than he knows about it"
"How bout some 'slide out your ass' cheessteaks?" (often)
"You fly, I'll buy" (often)
"OK Mr Bigshot"
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here I am in my underwear. I can hear my wife starting the shower, I've just begun the ritual, and I'm gathering my senses to come out of auto-pilot....theres a problem. Wake up. Someone has forgotten to buy milk, or creamer, or anything white for that matter. I can feel pillow marks on my face.
The first ounces of hot coffee are dripping into the pot, and the smell makes my blood race. My body needs caffeine, I need creamer.
I hate black coffee. You'd think I wouldnt hate it as much as I do...I mean it's almost there...almost. I buy good coffee too. I dont drive a fancy car or blow my money at the bar...life is just too short to waste it on bad coffee. That makes it twice as ironic that I have no minimum standard for creamer. I like Half n Half, I like Milk, Skim, Non-Dairy Powder....I have a theroy I like the taste of whiteness. That ANYTHING white will do. I think of things that are white. Titanium Dioxide is white. Zinc Oxide is white. Flour is white. Some of my socks are nearly white. Perhaps just a drop of paint?
I sometimes keep non dairy creamer as backup, but I've used that up too.
The back of my mind hands down the verdict. It was I who forgot to get the creamer, I'll have to drink my black coffee without giving anyone attitude. I'll probably have just one cup, and get the rest of my fix at work. Just enough so that I dont snap at anyone.
I stare at the two waiting mugs. Mine is black. I always drink out of my discontinued Pfalzkraft Black Hertitage Mugs. I spent a year buying them whenever they showed up on ebay, so now I have a many. They are flat black heavy stone. They hold the heat better and have anough mass to feel like a tool. My caffeine deliver machine. She insists on a white mug. I'm pretty sure I'm the crazy one.
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Here's another funny thought about the Runaway Bride. And by funny I mean that it's funny because it's not me. We've all done something stupid and embarrassing. Here is a list of the things I have done:
I dwell on those things and let them eat at me. The reality is that it's bigger in my head than other people's. They are busy fucking their own lives up to think about my fuck-ups. Usually you fuck up around those you love like your family and friends. They tend to forgive you and move on or away.
Some people are unfortunate enough to fuck up in a public way. People in her town who knew her or not were all involved when she went missing. She was sure to be a local news story and a 'local boob' when it was all over....all of her friends, family and neighbors would know she's an ass. The lite would be that she could get up and go to NYC or Montana and start over at least.
I think it's her good looks that were the final blow in this perfect media storm. There have been a rash of abductions leading to murders....and also by husbands: look at Scott Peterson, and that other guy out west who faked getting into medical school. We all suspected this finace guy alittle. It was a slow news week with the new Pope all settled into the Popemobile. Everybody saw this cute chick on the internet who was missing from her fairy tale and whammo, we're all hooked.
She's screwed, and has nowhere to go but reality TV
Also remember my prediction on the ex-boyfriend out there. She bought those tickets a week before. Nobody plans to go 'nowhere' for a full week.....
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You Are A Cog.: Higher Education
Here's a very interesting post by Birdy. The most interesting part is actually my comments to it.
:)
So it's got me thinking. I studied commercial art in college and have made a career of 13 years out of it. I took many many classes that taught me skills, but the lessons I learned there failed me. The lessons that taught me the most were actually from 'Fine Art' teachers. I now realize it has more to do with the teachers themselves.
The following three men were at the end of their teaching careers or at least in the back half when I was there. They knew nothing of computers or photoshop and I remember one of them scoffing at the idea that the computer could be a tool of art. Regardless, it is, and he taught me the concepts I use on it.
Dr Chard: This was an easy going laid back man who Birdy called "Arrow Beard". Not laid back in a hippie way but reserved and quiet like a farmer. Despite his simple appearance he was a hugely successful painter in NYC. He taught drawing and painting but what I learned from him was how to see. Look at whats in front of you instead of what you think you see in front of you. It's a harder conceot than you think. If I were to place a soda can in front of you and told you to draw it, you would look at the soda can for the first few minutes of drawing, and then rely on your mental picture of a soda can to finnish the drawing. You must continue to observe the can as it really is. Drawing is Seeing.
The other big thing I learned from Dr Chard didnt sink in for 5 years after college. Craft. You must be consistant in your drive and skills and attention. You must use the same care throughout the process of creation. Show respect for the piece you are working on and for the people who will later view it. He once got on me for relying too heavily on 'happy accidents' in my work. I was loose with my craft and my control and unexpected things would happen. I kept the good ones. I was hurt by his comments and years later discovered they were true.
Dr Tishler: This man was feared. He was a short stocky man who rarely said anything and it was never nice when he did. In my mind he is Talousse Latrec without the limp. He taught painting and in my case, humility. We would show up to class and paint for 6 hours a week (in most art classes, they were six hours a week for only 3 credits) and he wouldnt say much. Once in awhile he would have everyone put their artwork on the wall so we could all critique it. It was like Simon Cowell on American Idol when he opened his mouth. Many many times he would tell someone (someone who chose to MAJOR in art mind you) that they had no business being in art, and that the best thing they could do would be to immediatley drop out. Can you imagine how devastating it must be to hear that? It was true too. What seemed cruel was probably the best advice these people ever got (all of it unheeded of course) The real world would later prove to be much crueller to these people. He saw it as his own responsibility to tell them. He should be awarded a medal. He rarely said anything about my work, but told me at graduation. "I'm a fan of your painting" (literly that was the entire conversation) It made me regret not painting more in college.
Dr Appelson: The guy who taught me the most did it in one semester. I had him for 'Print Making' which is about the farthest you could get from what I now do. He demanded hard work and most people hated him. He was infamous for tearing up drawings done by freshman in front of them (alot to be learned there). By chance there were many in that class who wanted to work, and work hard. I got up early and went to work in his studio when I didnt have class. He gave me a key and I would show up at night and work. I wasnt alone either. We put our pieces on the wall and talked about them...listened. About the surface and of things much much deeper. I learned teamwork. I learned integrity.
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A few things about the chick who pretended she was kidnapped to get out of her wedding:
1. She is one of very few people who you can see their entire iris most of the time. Most people you can only see it when they are surprised. I had a roomate that had the same condition...he too is crazy....just in a different way.
2. We will find out in the coming days that she fled to see an old boyfriend. You dont just buy a ticket to nowhere....she was looking for a harbor to park her boat in. She may have not found him, but she was looking.....
3. Her fiance may be crazier than her. Not that it's crazy to still want to marry her, but he's pretending like he's not angry or anything. That boy has some serious issues and thats probably half the reason she took off.
4 She's a nurse. I grew up with such respect for the profession, perhaps even moreso than for doctors. Nurses are the one on the ground dealing with the immediate issues, I was disappointed to find out how many flaky people I know that are nurses. They're as bad as the rest of us.
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I received an email today that changes everything.
http://steakbellie.blogspot.com/
has been voted the third most important blog in the Greater Philadelphia area. I've been asked to speak at the dinner honoring these notable blogs. In fact I've been asked to speak at many award ceremonies, and clearly, this is one of them. It's nearly an honor.
I've tried to bare my soul abit on this blog. I try to filter the news and events and deliver whats on my mind. It's not a diary, it's an opportunity to be creative in a mundane kind of way. I didnt think anyone was reading this so I was candid, and now I'm embarrassed to know the following:
1. Two B-List celebrities read my Blog regularly. One is Danny Most (Ralph Mouth from Happy Days) the other Don Pollack (sort of a Weird Al Yankavick of local Philly News). Apparently Danny Most is responsible for half of my traffic.
2. Angelina Jolie happened upon my blog once, and after reading a few articles removed me from her list of "Top 5 Hottest Guys"
3. 4 out of 5 of my readers think I have too much time on my hands.
4. There 13 are fan-blogs of my blog. They disect everything I say and critique my artwork. Everyone is allowed to view them but me.
5. Someone is developing a 'Steakbellie's Blog Action Figure and there's talk of movie rights and a book deal.
6. None of these people bothered to leave any comments.
I'm very self conscious now. I need a hug.
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1. Those inside my head
B. Those not inside my head
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The Fashionistas are planning their coup
Knee High Leather boots all summer
White after Labor Day
Tweed to take out the garbage
Winters will wear summer colors
Somebody is in Lime
Someone else is fat, and has farted
Twice
Off-Black is the new Black
So are whites washed with something red
40 is the new 30
20 is stil 20 though
They'll take these streets by storm
Mixing Ralph Lauren with Jaquline Smith
Prada with non-Prada
I still have nothing to wear
They carry huge eyelash brushes caked with black gook
swabbing passersby with 5lbs of sticky beauty
The MaryKay Ladies will have their pink Caddys keyed
and then touched up with nail gloss by Jessica Simspon, (we dont want rust)
Hear the drums
Smell the Fragrance
Have a Latte
It's a Fashion Coup
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