To say Cloverfield is a Godzilla-meets-Blair-Witch movie is not exactly original, but it does get the job done.  My friend described it as if experiencing the video game Rampage, only from a civilian's perspective.  Either way, there's not much need to delve into plot beyond these descriptions.

The film is an attempt to get the audience to have a more visceral experience in what is effectively a dead, or at least dying, genre of film; the monster movie.  And, to this end, it succeeds.   I was hooked and stared at the screen like a detective looking for satisfying clues in the corner of frames as our camera man, Hud, goes running through New York city while a menacing creature was wrecking havoc.

The effects here are terrific.  Devastation occurs within inches of the camera and you really get the feeling that they just dropped a cameraman in the middle of this carnage.  While special effects have certainly gotten polished in the last 5 years or so, there's still a fakeness to it because it just looks like a really good special effect.  Here, the effects heighten the drama of the movie because they are not the focus of a particular shot as much as they are the boundaries to which the characters must navigate through.

I remember watching Transformers and, when the battle at the end of the movie took place, there was an obscenely large amount of property destruction.  In Transformers, the camera acts an indestructible, floating recorder that is not connected to the world it is recording and is merely seeking to find the coolest way of documenting it.  In Cloverfield, however, the camera itself is attached to a character, and therefore is subject to the same vulnerability.  Our experience of the movie is directly attached through the camera, and thus through to Hud.  In Transformers, there's no danger of a falling rock taking out the camera and then preventing us from experiencing the next scene.  In Cloverfield, however, that risk is ever present and we continually are ducking and weaving through the action right along with the characters.

Now, this is odd.  Had you caught me exiting the theater and asking me what I thought of the film, I would most assuredly have given it very high praise.  However, in hindsight, I find myself seeing more and more flaws in the film that I didn't experience while watching the film, but know that I will be cognizant of the next time through.

You see, in The Blair Witch Project, the fact that you are watching a well crafted movie is so hidden from the audience that it's almost imperceptible.  I don't think it is fair to say the same could be said of Cloverfield.

Now, before I discuss a few examples of this, I want to explain why this is important.  Our You-Tube generation is constantly being bombarded with real life home made movies depicting life's craziest of events.  As a result, we've grown keenly aware of the videos that that are forgeries and, even though what is caught on film looks amazing, if we know it is faked, it is much easier to discard.  If we see a video of a woman being scared and freaking out and breaking an expensive vase or something, we might find this highly entertaining and share it with friends.  However, is we were to notice that the vase was positioned conveniently at the end a table and the camera happened to have that particular shot in focus, we would grow suspect of the video's authenticity and, subsequently, would not enjoy it as much.

Now, obviously a giant monster attacking New York is fake, but that's not my concern.  My concerns lie elsewhere.

For example, there's not a whole lot of cussing.  In reality, people would be dropping f-bombs all over the place had they really been there experiencing this chaos.  The lack of cussing took me out of the film as I realized that the reason they are censoring themselves is because they want a PG-13 rating. 

There's a shot in which the camera is watching a news report on TV introducing the secondary creatures.  I found this highly convenient and immediately recognized that this was a setup for a later situation involving the characters and these little monsters.

There's a scene in which a soldier tells our characters that they have a certain amount of time to accomplish a task before they need to get back because the government is going to authorize destroying the whole city.  This is a very common deadline tactic used in films to falsely add drama.  I mean, think about all the movies in which the hero has 2 days to solve the case or else.

Some of the characters experience a crazy amount of physical damage but are able to compose themselves when the pressure is on.  Perhaps you could credit adrenaline to this, but I think it crosses the line and falls into the category of movie characters simply not experiencing the same amount of pain that real people do.

The camera is also conveniently out of frame where there is violence or other bloody situations.  Again, like the cussing, this reminded me that I'm watching a movie shooting for a PG-13 rating.

Effectively, the camera is only on for an hour and a half of the seven hours of time it is recording.  However, when the camera is turned on is not exactly done so because strange occurrences warrant it as much as the film needs it to move on the next scene or to plant information for later scenes.

In thinking about all of these things, I have a yet another glowing opinion of Blair Witch, which managed to avoid all of these pitfalls.  When I left the theater thinking about Blair Witch I became more and more scared of it.  It recognized that the idea of being hunted by creature of the night is much more terrifying that the actual hunt.  Cloverfield recognizes this concept to a large extent, but sells itself short in order to make a more accessible movie.

Despite these drawbacks, Cloverfield is still a great experience and something I highly recommend, especially in a theater.

Favs of the year (spoilers):

It's been an unusual year for Hollywood.  The films that stick out for me aren't heavy epic pieces, interlaced hyper-narratives (like Babel/Magnolia) or anything that enjoyed both critical and financial success.  Instead, the year's best have been quiet, engaging entertainment that, while not staggeringly brilliant, highlights how the medium of film is really an emotional medium.

So, here's my top five for the year followed by a brief epilogue.

Number 5:  Ratatouille. 

There are several aspects of this film that, upon reflection, were responsible for grabbing my attention and keeping me thoroughly entertained.  I realized that most of these were so because I thought about how a standard studio would have handled the material, and then compared it to the final product.

For example, the rat, who wants to be a professional chef, teams up with a janitor in a famous kitchen.  In a lesser movie, I would expect the janitor to also be a wanna-be chef looking for his chance to impress the kitchen staff.  However, in Ratatouille, the janitor has no interest whatsoever in cooking and provides for a more interesting dynamic between him and the rat.

The janitor develops a crush on the one female chef in the kitchen.  In a lesser film, the two would have predictably fallen in love.  But here, no such cliché is presented.

In most films, the main character (often the hero or protagonist) is the one we get to see experience a character arc from beginning to end.  Here, however, the character arc comes not with the protagonist, but with the antagonist, or bad guy.  Peter O'Toole's brilliant voice over with his character at the end adds a new dimension to the film that was totally unexpected and greatly appreciated.

Another interesting component is how long it takes for the main duo to team up.  It must be nearly 25 minutes before they meet.  Most films wouldn't give the audience enough credit to bring on a second protagonist after the first has been already substantially developed.

Then, there's the camera work.  Brad Bird, again demonstrating his already praised skills, directs even the most mundane of action shots with amazing energy.  When you imagine the script may only read "Rat walks on rope" and then compare that with the vitality and energy on screen, you can clearly see how the direction here adds so much more than what is on the page.

Of course, the movie is great-looking with detail that warrants its own article.  However, I'm more interested in other aspects of the film.

The movie is not without its flaws.  There is a point where the film goes out of its way to introduce the rest of the kitchen staff as if to set up their own unique personalities.  However, they get melded together and really have no distinction amongst themselves.  I don't think the film quite handles the idea of cute mice interacting with humans.  In some cases it feels like a Disney movie in the compatibility, yet in others, it feels like it would in real life.  I think this may be a fundamental problem in the concept of the film, and not something that could be easily fixable through a re-write or with different direction.

Either way, Ratatouille is a surprisingly refreshing animated feature that again proves that going against the grain of convention is often more rewarding than going with it.

Number 4: Juno. 

Much has been written about this 4^th quarter gem that has identified it with the sweet personality that was last year's Little Miss Sunshine.  The two certainly share lightheartedness and an indie feel that separates themselves from their more conventional counterparts.  Now, to be honest, there are many things about this film that don't necessarily sit well for me.

For starters, and much has also been written on this, is Juno's well-versed pop culture vernacular.  I'm not too out of step with her generation's lingo so I know that her word choice is certainly outside the realm of 'normal', if not 'possible.'  When she starts spouting such references I start to get taken out of the film as if the movie expects me to get them all when really all I feel is the writer looking at me smugly with his "wasn't that clever" attitude.  This is probably because there aren't any characters in the film that react to Juno like I, or any sensible person would.  Nobody laughs at the references that are funny, and nobody furrows their brow when the reference is oblique at best.  I also fear these references will be too far gone in the near future and will thus heavily date this picture.

Although the movie is called Juno and is expected to follow the titular character, I found the lack of scenes featuring  Bleeker (the boyfriend/father) to be damaging.  His story of unrequited love, patience and loss of control should have been given more attention.  His situation is only alluded to when he briefly speaks to Juno in the hallway while I would have preferred to experience those emotions in their own scenes.

In addition to these problems, I didn't believe the scenes that occurred at the school.  The dialog and situations seemed to come more from an adult male's perspective than that of a teenage girl in school.

However, despite these drawbacks, there is still a strong gravitation to the emotional core of this film, especially through the Juno character.  When Juno discovers that the parents who were going to adopt her child seem to be falling apart, we get to share with her a scene in which Juno finally breaks down.  I found this scene to be the heart of the film.

Throughout the entire film, Juno has been acting more adult than she really is and, in some cases, acting more adult than most adults.  Upon the pregnancy, her isolation begins to mount from friends and other social activities.  When she has her break down in the van, I knew that her reason for doing so was because she felt alone.  Yet, I felt I was with her, wanting to console and say that she wasn't alone.  It wasn't a sense of empathy that was moving.  It wasn't that I, at sometime had felt alone and could relate.  No, it was that I knew she felt she was alone, and I wanted to let her know she wasn't.

There are some other surprisingly touching scenes in the film that involve other characters, and, I don't mean to discredit them, but I've seen similar moments in other films.  It was, for me, the scene in the van, which elevated this film's status and highlighted how effective Juno is at penetrating the emotional center of the audience.

 Number 3: Zodiac.

It has been shown over and over that the hunt for the serial killer is much more interesting and engaging than the actual serial killer.  Zodiac embodies this and is a monster of a film that credits the audience's ability to pay attention, soak in information, and challenges them to keep up with the investigation.

This film reminds me of the feeling I got when I watched All The President's Men and The Insider.  I knew the stories were based off of real life events and, from scene to scene, I became more engrossed in the crazy reality of it all.  (This is probably why I read many non-fiction works as I see reality more fictional than fiction.)

 Zodiac has some violence on the front end but none in either the middle or ending.  While usually I'll argue that violence off screen is more effective than violence on screen, I must admit that the style and execution of the scene in which the Zodiac kills his victims by the lake is gruesomely effective. (By the way, I saw this scene in a full-screen viewing and, upon it, must insist that anybody who watches this movie needs to do so in the letterbox format.)

Also, this film reminds of another favorite of mine, Thirteen Days.  This is because both films, while I know the eventual outcome, were still effective in conveying the drama of the stories and made me forget what I knew so that I could go along for the ride with the characters in the film.

This movie is also a testament of the saying, I think coined by Ebert, "No good movie is too long and no bad movie is too short."  At two hours and forty minutes, I was still very much engaged in the film longing to know what the next unpredictable chapter would bring.

Number 2: The Lookout.

  This is a startling good film that cuts the fat and dispenses thrills effectively and efficiently.  In introducing it to others, I've seen it about three times and still look forward to seeing it again.

At first, I was afraid this film was going to be gimmicky after it introduces its main character as having memory problems resulting from an accident.  But this film is too smart to play to such a low concept.  The film doesn't rest on this one premise.  Instead, it incorporates it into the character and into the plethora of other events surrounding the character.

 I think what really captivates me about the film is its unassuming nature.  While Zodiac is a big film, with big stars and a long running time, The Lookout hides under the radar.  Even the biggest name in the movie, Jeff Daniels, disguises himself in unkemptness and discreetness.  This movie takes unexpected turns and these are made more so because the audience really isn't anticipating the quality of the film.

Also intriguing is the compactness of the script.  The movie is dense with plot and characters but it doesn't waste two and half hours to tell it.  It manages to elegantly get it all in just over one and half hours.  Each scene leads well to the next and each is given more vitality when, upon the conclusion of the film, we see how much more important even the smaller scenes are.

This is a film, like The Usual Suspects, that when someone checks out my DVD collection and asks for a referral, I will eagerly recommend.

Number 1: Waitress.

While Waitress lacks the sophistication of The Lookout, the grandiose of Zodiac, the depth of Juno and the unconventionality of Ratatouille, it makes up with charm.  So many films try every year to embody this emotion that they throw intelligence and plausibility right out the window.  Here, humor and optimism are in great supply without such drawbacks.

There is a scene in this film that, to me, is probably one of my favorite scenes in any movie, especially in this genre.  Keri Russel's character, upon having an awkward exchange with her love interest, played by Nathan Fillion, starts to realize that he is interested in her.  In lesser movies, this scene would have taken place between Keri Russel's character and her friends as she describes the situation and they tell her he likes her and she him.

Instead, what we get in Waitress is this static long shot on Keri's confused face.  Then, slowly, her confused look morphs into an ear to ear smile that, in my opinion, can beat out a Julia Robert's smile, if only by a margin.  I challenge anybody to try and watch that scene without being seduced by that infectious smile and not do the same.

The relationship between Russel and Fillion is handled both comically and respectively.  There is a turn near the end of the film between them that I did not anticipate and, at first was chagrined at, but, in hindsight, see it as the best resolution.  I only mention this because a studio would have botched this.

Now, I freely admit that I am biased.  I'm a huge Nathan Fillon fan (everybody needs to see Firefly / Serenity) and I am still perplexed how Keri Russel is not an A-list actress.  But, the reasons I enjoy their work is what makes Waitress so great.  These actors are so likeable in their characters that you can't help but root for them and want to be their friend.  I think Waitress succeeds as a film, and isn't solely dependent on its charismatic leads, because I feel the same warmth with the secondary characters as well.

The romantic comedy genre has so many awful additions that, when standing in the comedy section at Blockbuster, it's hard not to marvel at all of the trash that has been made and marketed as "date movies."  Waitress delivers consistent charm, comedy and energy, remains loyal to the genre, and, against the odds, doesn't pander to the idiocy assumed to be present in the audience base.

One final thing I'd like to say about Waitress is that, unlike The Lookout, I don't find myself longing to see it over and over again or flippantly recommending it to others.  It's such a great film in its genre that I don't just want to see it again, but I want to share it with others.  Very few films every illicit this emotion.

Slight epilogue…

I am one of those weird few who thinks O Brother Where Art Thou and Miller's Crossing are the best Cohen brothers films and am, for the most part, not impressed with Fargo.  With that being said, I understand I am in the minority when I say I didn't think too highly of No Country for Old Men.  I felt like the movie was gelatinous in purpose and without a strong focus.  I felt the close-ups of the characters performing home-surgery was so graphic as to become comedic and didn't feel it served a higher meaning like the violence in History of Violence.  I don't think the movie is bad, by any means.  I just don't see it elevated too far beyond a botched-crime movie, much like Fargo.

300 was a great movie that, had I not seen several times since its release, might have made the cut.  I find the passion and boldness of this movie intoxicating, but, upon further viewing have found all the scenes not depicting battle, as superfluous and boring.  Also, the demise of the 300 was, I thought, a bit anti-climatic.

Since Ebert put The Great Debaters as his number 4 film, I saw that recently.  The film's drawbacks actually lie in the debates themselves.  The issues, by todays standards, are pretty one sided and we miss out on what could be some very interesting dynamics.  What would happen if they had to debate an issue they didn't agree with?  I also would have liked to see more scenes depicting the art of debate.  How do they spot fallous arguements and how do they correct them?  And, quite frankly, I just want more scenes with Denzel.  He is such a powerful orator that to put him in a movie where people are addressing large crowds, and he's not doing so, seems wrong.  Maybe that's why Malcolm X seems so right. 

I have yet to see There Will Be Blood and it's very possible that it could supplant one of the top 5.  It is not available here in Austin presently.

Look forward to this year's films starting with this weekend's Cloverfield.

-beasley

Hangin' with the boys....the last 38 hours...

To appreciate the magnitude of the last 38 hours really is to appreciate what I have so affectionately come to name; "The Boys."  They consist of a trinity-like friendship that began in middle school far removed from my own consisting of Hamill, Max and Adam.

As a precursor to this blog, it will be necessary to make a brief decription of The Boys and a little history as to how I know them.  I met Hamill through a martial arts club while attending SFA in Nacogdoches, Texas.  We bonded well there and when his two friends, Max and Adam, moved to Nac later, we all became friends.  

All three of them are super creative individuals; Max and Adam are both accomplished singer/song writer/guitarists, and Hamill excells at sculpting and pretty much all forms of arts that require a canvass.  Hamill acts as somewhat of a ring leader (though too much emphasis here would be misleading), Max is notorious for being zany and so unpredictably funny that many of his comments have achieved legendary status among us all, and Adam is the sane, logical one, who is occassionally referred to as, "a bitch."

Also, all three of them are Super Smash Bros. and Halo fanatics.  The importance of which will be mentioned later... 

They hold an admirably unbreakable bond between the three of them that I consider myself fortunate to be apart of...despite the following story...

First, a disclaimer:  The following events are true.  No hyperbole is necessary.  No fiction has been penned.  No names have been changed to protect the guilty.  Although some comments may be construed as negative, I feel absolutely no ill-will towards these guys.  All of these comments should be read as if I were being sarcastic...because I am.

Our story begins on Sunday, 3 days ago, when I agree to a plea to help Hamill and Max acquire the last of their belongings they have left in a storage shed in Nacogdoches, Texas to return to thier residence in San Marcos, Texas.  The gameplan, as per my understanding, was to leave to Nac late on Monday night (Tue. morning really) at 1:00 AM, hang out with Adam (who is currently finishing the last of his college courses at SFA), grab all of thier stuff first thing Wednesday morning, and drive back to Austin, where they would drop me off and then they would go back to San Marcos to complete the trip.

Now, when I agreed to this, I did acknowledge two seemingly condrictory positions:  I knew what I was getting into, and, I had no clue what I was getting into.  When any two pairings of The Boys take any kind of road trip, all plans, no matter how meticuloulsy coordinated, are utterly useless (such stories I will leave to them to describe as I wasn't there and wouldn't be able to do them justice).  When Max and Hamill embark on a trip, this effect is magnified.

Which brings us to our first 'plan'; leaving at 1:00AM...

The reason we would be leaving so late (early depending on your mindset), was because Max and Hamill get off work at midnight, and it would take roughly an hour for them to get ready and drive to Austin from San Marcos.

If we left from Austin to Nac at 1:00AM, that means we could get there at 5:30AM, which would give us time to crash for a few hours at Adam's place before embarking on our Halo extravaganza.

Well...1:00AM rolled by...and so did 2:00, 3:00 and 4:00.  Max and Hamill arrive at my place at 4:05AM.  Now, some people might have gotten angry at such reckless abandon for time.  But, I know the score, and I know this is only the beginning.  Because of my long day prior to this, at this point, I hadn't slept in 22 hours.  Here is a shot of us leaving my apartment, at about 4:15AM.

Of course, because we leave late, this requires hitting a local convenient store for caffiene and other synthetic means of energy!

But, this artifical pep didn't work on Hamill.

And you can see who got stuck driving the last 1.5 hours to Nac.  At this point, it's about 7:30 AM.

We arrived at Nac at 9:00 AM when we all agreed that some much needed overpriced breakfast food was mandated.  We hit IHOP.  I would like to note here that if anybody thinks about getting the new BBQ bacon cheeseburger they offer, please, instead, consider whipping your testicles with a car antennae.  That is all, thank you.

The Boys and I get back to Adam's house at which point Adam announces he has some much needed errands he needs to run.  Still jacked on caffiene and surpressed bowl movements from eating that horrid excuse for a sandwich, Max and I hit the local Wal-Mart to get some equipment so we can Halo it out later in the day.

At about 1:00 PM, Adam gets back, Hamill wakes up from yet another spur-of-the-moment nap, and, we grab our sticks.

Halo.

This game fucking rocks.  It turns some men in to badassess, and others into bitches.  We love this game...and we rock at it.  We constantly team and re-team amongst the four of us to try to attain the perfect balance of gameplay.  Though, even if the game ends up being 49 to 50, one team 'got fucking owned' and the other 'is fucking bad-ass.'  Max is the magic though.  His grenades have fucking homing capabilities or some shit and he has pyschic powers that tell him where you're going to be, before you even fucking know it.  Everybody wants to be on Max's team because losing in Halo makes your penis smaller and doing the slow rape after a head shot makes your fucking day.

You might notice that the aforementioned paragraph had numerous explicitives, not common in my everyday vernacular.  Halo brings out my rawness that most people rarely get a glimpse.  I will try to keep a civil tounge here on out...

At 4:30 PM-ish, we temporarily hung up our sticks to play some guitar and enjoy the outdoors.  I chilled outside on Adam's porch when Hamill, all of a sudden, seemed abnormally pre-occupied with a call from his cell phone.

After he hung up, I learned the following...

Hamill and Max got stopped in some po-dunk hill billy town while driving from Houston to Austin called Brenham.  There, the two were charged with a misdemeanor that is quite trite.  Although I would like to share the specifics, I thinks its better to leave that to thier wishes.

Nonetheless, apparently they have a mandatory courtdate...tomorrow afternoon at 1:30 PM, on Wednesday...in Brenham, Texas...which is about 4 hours away.

It's 6:00 PM on Tuesday, and at this point, it's too late to get to U-Haul for the trailor they need for thier stuff.  They open at 10:00 AM the next morning.  If we leave at 10:30, at best, they'd be late to Brenham.  The whole reason for going to Nac, save for hanging out and Halo, just got nixed. 

I've gone 36 hours with no sleep.

We decide to hit Nacho Grande, a local mexican joint that gives 2 free margaritas to all patrons of age.

Here's us at Nacho Grande.  Adam is terribly out of focus because he doesn't know what "don't move" means...

Here's a shot of him after he figured it out.

Max got one of me not drinking one of those free margarita I previously mentioned.

After Nacho Grande, and getting home, we decided that the best option was to get to the storage shed and get as much stuff as we could, that would fit in the truck.

Apparently, thier stuff is in a storage shed mixed with one of thier friend's in Nac.  Because Max's phone was out of battery power, and didn't bring a charger (of course), we didn't know how to call this person.  So, we just stopped by...

Fortunately, Sam was home.  However, his girlfriend was the one with the information on the shed, including access codes and what not.  She didn't answer her phone after numerous attempts.  So, we head back to Adam's...

It's 8:00 PM at this point and we are stuck in a precarious situation.  Because of last minute phone calls and favors asked by family members in the last two hours, Max and Hamill had managed to attained legal representation concerning their beef in Brenham.  Thier lawyer said that since representation was legit, they didn't necessarily have to be at Brenham the next day at 1:30 PM, because there is some motion of delay he can file because he wouldn't be available to attend court.

However, if the court didn't converse with this newly aquired lawyer prior to 1:30 PM, then Max and Hamill had to be there, or else face warrants and other repercussions.  But, if the lawyer did make successful contact with the court in time, that would free up Wednesday, and allow us more time to get the trailor from U-Haul and get access to the storage shed.  The problem is, if the lawyer doesn't make contact, we'd have to the road at 9:00AM to assure us not being late to Brenham.

We decide our best course of action is to call the lawyer and the court from 8:00 AM - 9:00 AM in the hopes of resolving this, or else leave to Brenham.

Since there was nothing more to do...it was Halo time.

We played till about 10:30 PM.  Our senses where starting to become rattled due to the lack of sleep.  We all hung up our sticks for a bit, and then ended up engaging in a phenomenon that we have yet to define with a single phrase.

This 'phenomenon' began years ago when Max and Adam dominated a local Nacogdoches open mic.  After the music, "The Boys" and I would stand infront of Rita's, the restuarant that hosted the open mic, and chat.

While this seems inoccous at best, you have to appreciate that ending this chatting is almost impossible.  We would literally stand there and talk for an hour, or even more, until girlfriends started begging us to leave or until our legs became dangerously fatigued.

Nowadays, we have to be conscious of this tendency because if, at any point, we stop and face each other and start talking, whether it be in a parking lot, inside Wal-Mart or in someone's house, we get locked.  And one of us has to say something like, "Let's walk and talk," to get us moving again.

I suppose a term being thrown around to describe this is "circling up," though it's not written in stone.  When this occurs, we've also said we need to "move the circle," in order to break free.  I understand this is rather trivial stuff, but I have never quite experienced such a weird phenomenon with anybody else or group of people.

Anyway, here's a few shots of us "circling up" outside of Adam's house at about 10:30 PM on Tuesday.

After about 30 minutes, we decide that some caffeine was mandatory to get our blood going again so we could revive our since depleted Halo reflexes.  We hit Starbucks.

When I ordered my drink, I just told the clerk to make it strong and with Vanilla.  It wasn't until I was half-way through that I noticed she had written that there were 4 shots of espresso in it.  Yum.

Anyway, we get back to Adam's and fire up Halo one last time. 

When we arrive, a conversatin began between The Boys that baffled me to no end.  Adam makes some complaint about how the bathroom stinks of shit, and that Hamill didn't clean the sink very well. 

Okay...Everybody who is reading this, please read the previous sentence over one more time, very carefully.  Now read it once more...

Okay, now here was Hamill's response, "I cleaned myself in the tub throughly and washed my hands!"

...If need be, please read THAT over again and read it knowing that Hamill is actually defending himself, and not making some wise-ass remark.

Hamill then says, "What about Max?"

To my astonishment, his response was, "I didn't leave a mess, I used a towel."

I guess what you, the reader, need to know is Nacogdoches is a backwoods dump pile of a city and, really, if someone runs out of toilet paper, that's certainly no reason not to take a dump.  Especially when such viable substitutes can be found with bath towels and running water from the tub...

When my perplexed mind finally put the pieces together, I made it abundently clear that I didn't want this conversation to go any futher because it required certain precursers that I was not going to think about.  Fortunately for all involved, they complied.

Needless to say, this will be forever marked on my brain, and will be a constant source of amusement for years to come.

Anyway, we commence with Halo and at about 1:00 AM, we reluctantly call it a night.

I had now gone 42 hours without sleep, and was totally buzzing due to the espresso.

Now, I don't think I was asleep for 30 minutes when I was awoken and one of the funniest things I have ever experienced occured...

At about 2:30 AM, Max stomped his way into the bathroom, no doubt to relieve himself.  Apparently, when he entered the bathroom, he startled Adam's cat, who was sleeping in there.

The cat ran out of the bathroom, and started going back and forth from the living room to the Master bedroom, 'meowing' over and over again.  It was dark, I was on the couch, but I could hear the 'meow' from one end of the house, then the silent pitter patter of feet, then hear it 'meow' from another.  Over and over and over.

Finally Adam gets up and starts calling for the cat.  One 'meow' would send Adam blindly in one direction, only to have another 'meow' come from where he started.  Several times he would bend down and try to feel for where the cat once was, only to hear it 'meow' elsewhere, and then return.

In Adam's frusteration he exclaimed, "This is like a bad dream!"

I was so unbelievable tired, I didn't make a sound.  But, inside, I was laughing hilariously.

Adam finally got his cat, and tossed it outside.

I slept from about 3:00 AM to 7:00 AM, giving me a much needed rest.  At 8:00 AM, we were all awake and phone calls began to the court in Brenham and to thier laywer.

However, it was to no avail so at 9:00, we left to Brenham.  Of course..that was the 'plan.'  Hamill wanted to make a last minute stop at the house of a friend of his, and, after getting gas and makeshift breakfast, we actually didn't leave Nac until about 10:00 AM.

Hamill, being tired, slept in the truck again, while I assumed the wheel to Brenham.  It should be noted here that Max didn't have his license and because of the Brenham thing, didn't want to risk driving.  We called the courthouse and the lawyer multiple times throughout the 3.5 hour trip, but got no confirmation or denial that we had to show.

Nevertheless, we make it to Brenham...with six minutes to spare.

Here's a shot of Hamill and I chilling on a bench before session began.

Once inside, we find out that the lawyer, in fact, did make contact with the court, a few minutes before our arrival, and that, ultimately, Max nor Hamill had to come. 

Of course.

Well, we're in and out of Brenham in under 20 minutes and make our way back to Austin to drop me off.  Max and Hamill anounce they are hungry and we hit Rudy's, the best damn BBQ place ever.

We get back to my place and just chill it out until Hamill has to leave in order to be at work at 7:00PM.

Here's a shot of us chilling and Hamill showing me how a trombone is 'supposed' to sound.

Anyway, Max and Hamill depart, I took a much needed shower, uploaded the pics from Max's phone that he left on my cpu, then typed up all of the text you just read, save for a few breaks and reading national headlines.

It's 10:00PM.  I've had 4 hours of sleep in the last 64 hours, and, honestly, I'm not as tired as you would think...

-Beasley

Although I hope that, in the end, the amusement factor of this tale will outweigh the sheer terror I had to endure to get it, I would gladly like to be able to go 88MPH in a Delorean and warn my past self so as to completely avoid this entire ordeal.  Alas, I cannot change the past.  However, I can provide you a comic synopsis of this tale with photographs to help you along the way.

After finishing up a quasi-late night of killing zombies (video game reference, nevermind), I retired to my porch at 10:00pm to play some acoustic guitar to myself and my fellow apartment neighbors.  I was enjoying a nice groove, pleasantly enjoying the moment, when, at 10:03pm, I had my encounter with the devil incarnate.

A GIANT roach came flying airborne from just around the corner at full speed.  A small sonic boom could be heard followed by its terrifyingly deafening war-cry of fluttering wings.  Patton himself would have crapped his pants had he been there.  This...THING...had no mercy, and was targeted at my right hand.

My first instinct was to bat it down, hurry back inside and call 911.  But I quickly realized that was stupid because it was too BIG to bat down.  Sure, if I had a baseball bat nearby or a caste-iron frying pan, but all I had was my hand and my guitar.  Hitting it with the guitar was out of the question cause of a fear of breaking the guitar.  Hitting it with my hand quickly faded when I envisioned it grabbing my hand and putting me in a choke hold and strangling me with my own vice-like grip.

So I resorted to plan B; screaming like a little bitch, waving my arms in the air, and hurrying back inside.

At this point, the only thing between me and this demon was a glass sliding door.  It kept running up and down the door at lightening speed.  I was a little scared at first because I knew it wasnt bulletproof.  But, it was pretty thick glass, so, my nerves started to calm.  I marveled at it.  Like a veloci-raptor will check for weaknesses in an electric fence (as per my understanding), this thing was moving up and down the glass, never once crossing his own path.  A few minutes passed, and it succumbed to the power of the sliding door, and flew to a nearby post to await its next strike.

It stood there, motionless.  I grabbed my camera and started taking pictures.  Here you see a shot of it on the post.

My mind then started trying to figure out ways to kill it.  Of course, I didnt want to get close.  My first idea: throw a knife at it.  Okay, Okay, I know this sounds stupid.  And it was.  I threw the knife and completely missed the post altogether.  In my defense though, it is tough to open a sliding glass door, throw a knife, quickly slide the door back, and be expected to hit anything with any accuracy.  Amazingly, even though it came within an inch of the roach, it didnt move.  It was one stone-cold sonofabitch.

Well, then I had my next idea: chemical warfare.  I checked my cabinets for Raid and the like and found only grease and mildew killer.  I read the container and it said it was toxic if ingested and I concluded this was my best bet.

Of course, opening the sliding door and trying to hit it from there was out of the question.  It was just too far and too much room for error.  I knew that I needed a direct hit on this one.  So, I exited my house from another door and cautiously flanked the Beast from the side.

I got close, about 2 feet from it.  I could hear it breath!  Because of the angle, I wouldnt have been able to hit it with anything, but I could maneuver the grease killer in the right spot.  I aimed.  I fired.

This is difficult to describe visually, but, imagine if you will the chaos that ensues when a hundred mousetraps go off in close proximity.  Thats what it was like, except you have to add adrenaline and fear into the mix.  This thing started going nuts!  It started flying into the wall, into the glass, the floor, the light, the glass again.  I thought Id better hurry back inside before it started after me.

It was then that it completed its fury rage and landed between my sliding door and the bug screen.  Heres a shot of it.  I even got the tape measure out.  Its kinda hard to see, but that thing is just over 2 ¼ inches long.

Well, I didnt know what to do next.  It looked like it really did not take a liking to the grease killer, so I tried it again.  I opened the door just enough to get the bottle around and sprayed vengeance on the roach.  It went nuts like before, but it appeared as if he was already developing an immunity to the weapon.  It settled in a spot between the gap of the partially opened sliding glass door, and the other piece of glass that remains stationary.

Because of the unique position it was in, it looked clearly like if I slammed the glass door shut, it would crush it between the piece of metal running up and down the center of the window along with the stationary glass plane.

Of course, looks can be deceiving.

I shut the sliding glass door and inadvertently let this monster in my apartment!!  It was now on the inside, free to do whatever it wanted with me!  But it just stood there, attached to the inside of my glass window.  I ran to the other side of the room, grabbed my cell phone and started calling my buddy to come over and kill it.

He was out and wasnt going to be available for another 30 minutes or so.  Shit, I thought.

I started thinking of other people who were nearby.  I knew someone who was in one apartment building over.  Shes a great gal, but I dont know her very well.  I figure asking her to come over to my place late on a Friday night to kill a giant roach may seem like a cheap line.  But, I couldnt afford not to ask. 

She didnt answer the phone so I tried sending a text-message.  All the while, Im busy keeping an eye on this thing.  I was so freaked out and on edge that when she responded and my phone went off in my hand, a jolt of panic quickly ran through my body.  In the process of sending another text, explaining why I needed someone, I heard what sounded like a light thump.  I looked up.  It wasnt there.

It sounded as if it fell, so I scoured the ground looking for it.  But I couldnt find it.  I was moving very slowly, not to make any rash movements as to upset the creature.  Upon looking though, my only conclusion was that it had gotten back in between the glass doors, out of my vision.  My idea to open and close it quickly in an effort to crush it suddenly seemed like a viable plan.  Funny how quickly we forget

So, I positioned myself waaaay to the side of the handle so as to keep all of my vital organs in safety.  Quickly, I opened and shut the door.

This time, instead of just chillin on the glass like before, Roach-Monster decided to go airborne again.  It flew in a zigzag like pattern coming within a foot of me before changing trajectory and landing on the ground.  I wish I could say I acted coolly at this point.  But, I didnt.  Every muscle in my body clenched with terror and I let out what many would refer to as "a girly scream." 

The fluttering of a bugs wings will forever haunt me.

The bug then scuttled around the floor and went into my shoe bin.  Fortunately, instead of residing in one of my shoes, it came out and wandered slowly around the floor.  Heres a picture of this. 

It was at this point I had my first good idea.  I needed to trap it.  I bolted into my bedroom and returned with the bottom of a box that held large postcards.  As it started heading towards the center of my rug, I dropped the box on the roach.  After it landed, to avoid having the roach simply fly away with my box cover, I put my measuring tape on it to hold it down.  Heres a shot of that.

To try to make peace with the girl whom I asked to come kill a roach on my behalf, I tried to invite her out for a drink and a game of pool so that I could clear everything up.  But, she didnt respond back.  What are you gonna do, eh?

Anyway, the 30 minutes my friend was going to be turned into 2 hours.  He showed up at my place at midnight.  Being the big man he is, he managed to lift the lid and capture the bug under a Dixie cup.  By sliding a piece of paper under the cup, he was able to safetly move the roach into the bathroom and flush it down the toilet.

As my friend left, he joked that I would probably be scared to take a dump in there now.  I laughed, but after he left, I flushed it again for good measure.

God I hate roaches.

-Beasley

It all started in September of 2004.  I was driving, scouting out a duplex for a potential client.  As a Realtor, this isnt so strange.  On my way out of the neighborhood, I get pulled over by Austin's finest.

The officer approaches my window and asks, Do you know why I pulled you over?  As a note to the readers, if a cop asks you this, DO NOT SAY ANYTHING!  This is a ploy for the officer to try and catch you in something they didnt know you did.  Well, Im hip to the bit so I respond, No, I dont.  "Well," he said, you were driving slow through that neighborhood.  Where are the drugs?"

The pieces click, I was driving slow, he figures I was trying to either, A, purchase some drugs or, B, trying to sell drugs.  I then proceeded to try to tell the officers that I was a Realtor, checking out some listings.  They were persistent, even after seeing my business cards and my list of houses I was out to see.

Finally, after searching my car and making me late to a friends performance (hes a musician), they let me go with two tickets.  One was for an outdated inspection, the other for not having my insurance card on me.

He explained that these are quick fixes.  All I had to do was send the evidence of the car passing inspection and a copy of the insurance card to the local authorities in 14 days.

No problem.right?

Well, it wasnt.  Although it took some additional work, I got the car inspected on time and sent the necessary paperwork.  I even called asking the clerk, I need to get this stuff mailed to you by tomorrow, is it okay if gets there a day late?  Her response, "That's fine, as long as it is postmarked by the correct date."  "Great," I said and I acted accordingly.

Fast-forward to November, 2004, the weekend of Thanksgiving.  Some buddies of mine as well as me were driving to one of their brother's houses.  Again, Austin's finest decide they need to speak to me.  Their reason this time, "You failed to use your turn signal to change lanes."  This was dubious at best, considering how late it was and how little traffic was around and that I was on a two lane access ramp when it occurred.  Nonetheless, the officer grabs my license and insurance and proceeds back to his squad car to run the numbers.

He comes back, "Son, you have four warrants for your arrest, Im going to need you to step out of the car slowly."  FOUR?  WTF?  Well, the officer was pretty much useless in telling me what the warrants were about.  All he said was that I could clear it up when I got to the precinct.  Fortunately, I was able to give my keys to one of my friends so they didn't tow my car.  So, innocent old me gets cuffed, tossed into the back of a squad car, and taken to the local jail on Thanksgiving weekend.  On a side note, the officer changed lanes 3 times without signaling during my little trip.

I finally get to the clerk whose first words were, "I hope you dont want to pay your fine, cause I just finished doing the drawers for the night."  Great, I thought, despite the fact I'm pissed off, Im going to have to finesse my way through this.  I explained the situation to her.  "I'm really sorry, but, I can't afford to wait and see the judge in the morning because of some appointments I have.  Now, I think this is all a mistake anyway, can you please tell me what my warrants are for?"

"Looks like you have two (not four after all) warrants out, one warrant for driving without insurance and the other for an outdated inspection sticker".  In the nicest voice I could muster I said, "I don't understand, I sent the paperwork in on time for those things, does the computer show that I sent in the paperwork?"  A few minutes goes by as she busily types away.

"Looks like we did get some paperwork from you," she finally said.  Slightly dumbfounded, I ask, What did you get?

She says without an ounce of confusion or hesitation in her voice, "Looks like we have proof of your inspection and insurance."

Now, at this point, I start to suspect that there are hidden cameras around and I was about to play the fool on some retarted MTV Punkd-like program.  I keep looking back and forth from the clerk to the arresting officer; nobody seems to think this is a problem.  I half expected to hear the Twilight Zone music over the intercom.

I broke the silence, "Um...if you have the paperwork, why am I here?"  "Well," she smugly responded, "You didn't pay us $10."

Oh, I said, I have $10, would you like cash or a check?  I know, it was a weak attempt, but I needed to try it.  "I can't take your money know, you have to pay for your warrants or wait to see the judge and explain it all to him in the morning."

"How much?"  "$575."

"Well, I'm obviously innocent, considering you have the proof right there, how am I going to get my money back?"

She then proceeded to explain to me that I could write a letter to the judge, asking for a case dismissal, upon which a check would be returned for me in the correct amount.  Fine, I thought.  I figured I was going to be out a grand, so, in a sense, $575 seemed cheap.

They let me out, I caught up with my friends who waited for me, and, the next day, I wrote the letter and mailed it to the judge...

Of course, I didnt hear anything back from the judge, and, quite honestly, I didn't really feel like working on it anymore.  Sure, $500 down the drain, but, whatever.  It wasnt worth it to me to investigate it and have to tell the same damn story to each new person I got forwarded to.  I hate that.

So, April of 2005 rolls along.  My license expires, and I don't get it renewed.  Okay, this one is totally my fault, but, getting in and out of the clubs didnt seem to be a problem, so, renewing my license fell to a very low priority.  On top of that, I got pulled over several times for reasons outside the purpose of this story, and all of the officers gave me warnings.  Until September of 2005, that is.

On my way to Dallas, a cop pulls me over for going 67 in a 65.  See how I get pulled over for what is essentially nothing?  Anyway, this cop doesnt like the fact that my license has been expired for 6 months, so, he confiscates it, writes me a ticket for it, and says that all I have to do is get a new one in 14 days and send the evidence to the Georgetown municipality.  

Fine, no problem.

The next day I hit the Department of Transportation and say, I need to renew my license.  After filling out a stupid card and waiting endlessly with my fellow Spanish speaking Austinites, my number finally gets called.  I approach the clerk, announce why I'm there and start adjusting my hair, because, theyre going to take my picture.

The clerk looks up, "So, your license was revoked?"  "Yeah," I said, "it expired in April."  "Well," she responded, "your license would have expired in April, had it not be revoked in March."  Again, this is where the Twilight Zone theme seemed appropriate.  

"I dont understand.  Why was my license revoked?"  "I don't know," she said, 'You're going to have to take it up with the courts."  Great.  Just great.  I get pulled over maybe 7 times between March and September and not one cop tells me my license has been revoked.  I waste 2 hours waiting in line for some chippy to tell me not only am I in the wrong line, Im in the wrong building.

I take a deep breath, and ger ready to go to the courts.  I battle my way though non-English speaking government workers for over a week before I get in contact with someone who claims to be the "Judge's Assistant."  I say this sarcastically because, considering the amount of time it took for information to get from me to her to the judge and then back to me, was so long that "assisting" seemed like a poor job description.  Remember, I need to get this all resolved in 14 days to battle the ticket I got in Georgetown for having an expired license.

When I finally spoke to the assistant, as my good friend Beth would say, this is where the thick plottens

My original violation, which started this whole escapade, occurred in September of 2004.  One month prior, in August, unbeknownst to me, a new law was passed that said if you were caught driving without insurance, you had to pay a $250 fine, every year, for the next three years.  When I paid the $575 to avoid having to see the Judge in the morning, it was the same this as pleading guilty to the crimes.  In March of 2005, the courts were expecting my first check.  Of course, I didnt know anything about it and, of course, I didnt send them a check.  So, they revoked my license.

After learning of this, I found out that my only recourse was to have the judge reopen my case and dismiss it.  That way the fine would go away, which would cancel the revocation of my license, which would allow me to get a new license, which would allow me to get out of my ticket in Georgetown.  Apparently, Judges are pretty reluctant to do this, and, after my 14 day deadline for Georgetown came and went, I finally got a call back from the judge.

I got him to dismiss both of the charges and, subsequently, he was going to have sent to me the $575 I spent in the first place.

It took another day or so, but I got my new license and then went to work clearing out the situation with Georgetown.

Because I failed to show for court, a warrant was sent out or something, but, if I paid a bail, and showed up on a later court date, I could show the judge what had all happened and show him my new license.  Well, I paid a bail of about $150 or so, and, I didn't show up to court.  Quite honestly, it slipped my mind and I was getting tired of the whole ordeal.

I contacted a friend of mine who works for Austin PD to make sure there weren't any outstanding warrants for me after all that was said and done, and, she said I was clean.  As far as I am concerned, its over.  Georgetown can have my $150, its a small price to pay for not having to open this wound up again.

I never got all the money back from Austin.  I got one check back for about $200, but never received the other which should be around $375.  I don't really care about that either.

Isn't it amazing how much time and money that $10 fee ended up costing me?

-Beasley

I am a bad driver.  Just plain terrible.  I can, and have, literally driven 40 minutes in the wrong direction...in the town I live in.  When driving, I strongly encourage those riding shotgun to tell me when and where to turn.  I don't take offense to it.  It's in everyone's best interest.

So, I guess it wouldn't be too much of a shock to say I get pulled over by the police...alot.  Strangely enough though, I never get pulled over for actually driving poorly.  I get pulled over for things like, "driving slowly through a suspicious neighborhood," "changing lanes without using a turn signal," and "passing an officer on the road (seriously, the cop pulled me over for going 67 in a 65, though all I was doing was following the cars ahead of me),"  These are just a few of the examples, all of which warrant thier own blog.

However, getting pulled over yesterday is what this blog is dedicated to.

On my way to visit a friend in Waco, I was cruising north on I-35 from Austin.  Listening to the radio and keeping myself generally entertained, I was somewhat enjoying the trip.  About 45 minutes into the ride I noticed a cop had recently finished writing someone a ticket, and was about to get in his car to get back on the highway.  I thought to myself, "Whew, I will be dozens of cars ahead of him before he gets on the highway.  I'm safe from him."  Well, the"dozens of cars" part was true, but the being "safe" apparently wasn't. 

Though the highway was only two lanes with no shoulders, within about 10 minutes, I found myself staring at the front end of that police car in my rear-view.  I knew he was after me.  I wasn't speeding or driving recklessly, but, all my experience as shown that I was in his sights.  I slowly, and safetly, changed to the right lane hoping for a second that he might pass me up.  But of course, he changed right behind me.  I maintained a steady speed with traffic, and simply waited until his lights to turn on.

Like clockwork, they lit up.

I pulled over grabbed my license and insurance, put my hands on the dash (cops like that by the way, no kidding) and waited for the officer.  Mind you, I wasn't really concerned at this moment.  Just a few days prior to this, I had contacted a friend of mine who works for the Austin Police Department and made her see if I had any outstanding warrants.  According to her, I was clean, and she was right.  Anyway, this middle aged cop approaches cautiously from my passenger side, never tells me why he pulled me over, and asks for my license and insurance.  I gave it to him.  Before he looked at it, he instructed me to get out of the car, move slowly to the trunk and put my hands behind my head.

Now, at this point you might expect me to be somewhat confused.  Well, I was to a certain extent, but, remember, I'm no stranger to cops just randomly pulling me over.  So, not looking to cause any trouble and get on with my day, I happily obliged.

After he frisked me, he lets me know why he pulled me over.  He asks, "Do you have a gun in the car?"

Okay, if I were directing this story and making a movie out of it, this is the part where the screen freezes for a brief second followed by flashbacks which lets the audience know that the main character, which would be me, is suddenly remembering past events.

Flashback!

A few weeks ago, I attended a James Bond themed party.  I dressed up as a Bond, sporting the classic black pants, coat and tie with a white shirt.  To add to the costume, I brought a wooden gun, painted black, that I had acquired years ago through my martial arts training.  Since the party, the gun has been in my car.

To amuse myself, I randomly pick up the gun and twirl it on my finger.  You know, try to see how many revolutions I can get before I fumble it?  In addition, because of how far back I keep the driver's seat, it makes as a useful tool for changing the radio station.  I didn't really consider the consequences...

Flash forward:

I responded to the officer, "I have a wooden gun in the front seat."  He then proceeds to handcuff me and makes me sit on the road, facing away from traffic.  He keeps a steady eye on me as 3 additional officers show up, one in a truck and two in their own squad cars.

As they all showed up, none of them asked me any questions.  One officer, and old dude stood next to me off to my side.  I looked up at him to acknowledge his presense and he just coldly stared at me as if to say, "You're goin down, mister."  I kinda chuckled to myself and went back to looking at nothing.

A few seconds after that, I hear that one of the officers finally went into the car and got the gun.  I hear him say comically, "Well, we found it." 

Of course, discovering that the gun was just made of wood wasn't enough.  They continued to bombard with me questions.  "Where are you going?"  "Do you enjoy pointing a gun at people?"  "What else are we going to find if we search your car?" 

Now, I can understand their suspicion, especially when they asked, "Why do you have this in your car?"  I answered honestly...maybe too much so.  "Well, I like twirling it on my finger and changing the radio station with it."

Apparently, someone on the highway called the cops and accused me of pointing the gun at them and others in a threatening manner.  Obviously, I did no such thing.  Listening closely to the cops, I got the since that whoever called didn't leave their name and number.  I figure without that information, I certainly can't be found guilty of anything.  I mean, having possession of a wooden gun isn't a crime.  The cops kept baiting me to get me to say that I pointed it at people, but I stuck to the truth and told him it was just a toy and a remote control, nothing more.

Now, kinda tangential to the story, something interesting happened next.  An 18-wheeler slammed on its brakes right next to us, going 70 on a two lane highway.  About three cars subsequently slammed on their brakes.  Smoke went everywhere and screeching tires peirced the air.  As I was still hand-cuffed, the cops lifted me up and ran me to a safe place off the shoulder.  At this point, a sickening thought came to mind.  "Oh my god, there's going to be wreck and my car is going to get totalled all because I had a goddamn wooden gun!"  Fortunely, there were no collisions, and, quite honestly, I was happy to have the cops' attention taken off me for awhile.

The cops seemed a bit more relaxed about me after the near tragic accident was averted.  They un-cuffed me and proceeded to give me a lecture about how stupid it was to twirl a wooden gun in the car and use it to change the radio station.  Each one had their own moral for me, so, when one finished, I said, "Thank you," looked to the next and waited for his speech to begin. 

When it was all said and done, I walked back to the car and told all of them to be safe.  I realized that the story could have been a lot worse, had i been twirling the gun when the officer approached the car or even if I was holding it.  I was totally oblivious to it until he asked me specifically about a gun.  I really could have been doing a number of stupid things.

But, everything turned out well, except that one of the cops confiscated my gun, and it has made a grand addition to the many other cop stories I have.

Perhaps I will indulge this audience with another one of them in the future.  In the meantime, that's all.

-Beez

I'm currently in the process of getting surgery on my sinuses and going through enough paperwork to make an attorney cringe.  Amidst a large file about a recent examination I had with my ENT doctor, I found the following:

---

EXAM:   Temp: 97.5      Height: 74''     Weight: 166 pounds

Well-developed man in no distress with a pleasant voice.  Nasal exam notable for...(insert doctor jargon here)...etc...

---

I found this quite amusing.  I think if people ask me, in the future, to describe myself, I'm going to say, "I'm a well-developed man in no distress with a pleasant voice."  I mean, who can argue with a doctor, right?

....I hope this thing isn't going to be tremendously expensive...

-Beasley

Well, maybe not. Although, I have heard that he was someone connected to the higher eschelons of the knights templar or the masons or something like that. Anyway, here's a funny pic of him flashing his gang signs in the saftey of is own home.

LOL

-Beasley

First, the preamble...

I had a myspace account some time last year, but, in an effort to tear myself away from this addicting medium, I purposely set a new password and rigged it in such a way that I wouldn't remember it.  Don't bother asking how.

Obviously, I'm back.  The jokes are plentiful about my return.  I'll leave them to your descretion.

Anyway, this was one of the more popular posts from my previous account.  I even laugh reading it.

Enjoy!

----------------------------------------

God, I hate roaches...

This JUST happened, seriously, not 5 minuets ago. Today is sort of my day off so I have been prolonging taking a shower. So, I go into my bathroom, only to my shear horror, that there is a 2 inch cockroach lying dead in the tub.

I HATE ROACHES!!! (Bugs in particular, I have a lot of bad bug stories)

So, after I get throughly grossed out, I go grab a handful of paper towels to pick the thing up. Mind you, this is the first time I've seen a roach in this place, and I've been here almost a year.

Okay, so my strategy is to lay the paper towels on top of it. Then, quickly pick it up and throw it all into the toilet nearby, flush, and be on my day.

Well, I lay the paper towels on it. And, I look away as I start to squeaze through the paper towel to pick up the roach. However, after about 2 seconds, I didn't feel the roach within my fingers, I looked down, AND THE DAMN THING HAD TELEPORTED ON TOP OF THE PAPER TOWELS AND WAS NOW INCHING TOWARDS MY HAND!!!!!

I freaked out, screamed like a little bitch, threw everything up in the air, roach and all. I quickly turned the shower head on and started aiming the stream towards this resurrected, space-bending creature in an effort to drown it.

But it was too strong!

It gripped the walls with more perserverence than a garfield suction toy. I then resorted to filling a cup up with water and splashing it off the wall. This took many attempts.

Finally, I got the creation to the drain, but the cursed beast is so big it won't go down!! He's stuck there. So, right now, I have the water running, straight from the faucet on top of him, hoping to force him down into oblivion.

I'm afraid to go back. The thing has probably mutated into to mega-roach with fire breathing powers and is now enjoying a nice hot shower in MY bathroom.

God I hate roaches.

----20 minutes later---

I have an all new appreciation for the exoskeleton.  As I have no other way of explaining how King Tut of the Killer Roach Order has managed to survive.  After 20 minutes of having water pounded on it, stuck in the drain and being so large the tub nearly filled up to the top, the amazing entity is still alive. 

I know I can't hear it, but I swear this demon is taunting me with things like, "Is that all you got?"  "Eat my ovipositer," and "HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA."

We'll see who gets the last laugh after I buy some drano from the Great Wal.

-B