pocketbuddha and knuckle toes' grand adventure of epic proportions

It started with an E-mail.

An Email sent in a 'wouldn't this be neat' manner, but with no real hope of making it happen.

but it's been decided, Knuckle toes and I are going here!

Now, of coarse, neither of us owns a car, or even knows how to drive one. And even if we did the tickets to this thing are 200 dollars, and clearly, gas on top of that is simply not going to happen, so we're going to hitch!

It's the weekend after Ness, so we will be dirty, we will be stinky, and we will probably be kind of grumpy. But there is no doubt in our minds that it will be glorious!

We've decided on a strict diet of home made trail bars, power spheres, and Vegan meal replacement bars, along with some fruit leather and beef jerky (for knuckle toes of coarse). We'll be real live outdoors women!

Donations to the cause would be much appreciated, in any form. I want to hear all kinds of adventure stories from people to get me pumped up. . . what I like to call and emotional donation. . . and, only because I know my parents are secretly reading. . . any help you can offer your lay-about daughter would be welcome.

Tom Petty here we come!!!

The subtle public crotch scratch

As with everything else in our world, scratching one's crotch is an activity that holds a crazy gender based double standard.

It's oh so acceptable, even if a little nauseating, for a man to reach down and scratch his sweaty itchy balls while doing most anything. standing in line at the bank, walking down the street, standing outside the pub with a smoke in one hand and their balls in another.

It baffles me for the most part, and often I find myself wondering if it's about more than the itch. Could it be that scratching testicles gives the scratcher some kind of crazy super powers? Is it somehow Hallucinogenic? Does it release endorphins? Or is it that someone has convinced men everywhere that it releases an irresistible pheromone?

The ins and outs, motives and modes of male ball scratching are not, however, what I am writing about today. What I was thinking about is how unfair it is that Women are not afforded the same freedom to itch.

It doesn't happen often, but on those hot sweaty days of summer, usually the days after a little grooming down south, the need to itch is unavoidable. My usual reaction is to excuse myself to the washroom where I can scratch without the disgusted looks of others.

I had thought I was the only one, but apparently this is a problem that many women have dealt with. and so, while walking through the mall, a friend of mine and I started making a list of ways to subtly scratch your crotch in public in the hopes that it would bring a little comfort to women, if not entirely address the double standard issue.

1) the pocket scratch - works best when wearing a long coat, or baggy pants, and involves scratching your itch through your jacket or pants under the guise of searching for pocket change, or warming your hands.

2) Look a rocket! - basically this approach takes the art of misdirection from the magicians and applies it to our current problem. This approach is probably more for those who don't care about the strangers around them, but don't want the person they're speaking with to see. . . basically all you need to do is call your company's attention to something in the other direction for however long it takes you to quietly deal with your problem. some examples include: "check out that guys funny hat.", "Hey isn't that so and so from popular reality show? oh well, it looks like him.", and "look that way for a second while I scratch my crotch."

3) the sit and wiggle - If you are sitting, either in a restaurant, at your desk, or even at the bus stop, or dare i say, on the bus, a little clever wiggling can be enough to quell the desire to scratch until a more appropriate time. to avoid making yourself look twitchy, you can incorporate the wiggling into other movements, like an extra shift or shimmy while moving your chair closer to the table, or a little more twist than really necessary when you turn to look behind you.

4) the crouch scratch - This is best for long uncomfortable shopping strips. By covering the scratch behind a low crouch or bend to 'get a closer look' at the items on lower shelves, it is easy to relieve yourself without drawing any attention to what you're doing.

5) the Fuck you scratch - Just do it! for all intent and purposes this really should not be on a list entitled 'subtle crotch scratching techniques' But this one's for all women out there who are fed up with the double-standards of their gender. . . no matter how questionable the hygiene of it, If they can do it, so can we, scratch a be free sisters.

Fidel's a chick!

Either Knuckle_toes has planted some breath mints to fuck with me, or the gecko's a girl.

The picture is pretty fuzzy, but if you look really closely you will see two little eggs nestled in the mood ships and dirt.

I saw on the discovery channel once that Geckos usually make their nests on walls like spiders. . . but I suppose it could be a difference in kind of gecko or some such thing.

either way I feel like a proud grandmother or something, even though the eggs are probably unfertilized and will never hatch. . . unless Che and Fidel were getting their freak on. . . there's a weird thought.

In other news the frog is missing and presumed dead, this combined with the sudden and mysterious death of Che last week leads me to assume that Fidel went on a pregnant hormonal rampage and killed everything in the tank because they ran out of pickles and peanut-butter flavored crickets.

I hope some kid out there doing a report on communism Googles 'Che and Fidel' and finds this.

squeaky shoe

There once was a shoe that was squeaky,
Worn by a girl who was cheeky.
They arrived at the pub,
But here's the rub,
The others all thought it was geeky.

I am fully aware that that limerick makes little to no sense, but my favorite shoes have developed a small squeak, and i am learning to love it. . . others are not so sure they could love it.

I believe the squeak is a direct result of the 'Jules vs Puddle' incident of two days ago. . . so I cannot blame the shoe, as it was entirely my own stupidity that caused the squeak.

here is a shitty MS paint diagram on how that may have happened. . .

so freakin bored out of my mind.

School's been weird crazy lately. . . but it was brought to my attention that I should update my blog. . . so here I am . . . I am not dead.

happy zombie Jebus day to all.


in honour of the occasion I stole a picture off the internet without the slightest intention of crediting the artist!