Zayn, Zayn, Zayn...

Zayn, you have some explaining to do...

I just logged into my facebook page and received this message, enjoy...

Looks like ol' Zayn got himself into another pickle...

El vortex retirement...

If you are an avid visitor of the slap magazine website, being your thirteen and your parental controls block out thrasher for the hubba ad's or your Neil Thurman, you have already heard the news that El Vortex has announced his retirement from skateboarding. If you don't skateboard, your not gonna understand a single thing in this post so you might as well just skim through this and pretend it was a mock review of Jack Black's "Nacho Libre". Though the decision made me sad, I have come up with a top 5 reasons for both El vortex to come out of retirement and to remain in retirement.

Top 5 reasons El Vortex should come out of retirement:

1. There is nothing better to do in Longmont.
2. Meta Sam is still trying to push 3 cases of El Vortex's spitfire wheels to people with enough common sense to avoid buying wheels that have been yellowed for years. D5 is rumored to have offered a deli zone sand which for a case and a shout out in the next video.
3. Troubled teens are still smoking cigarettes at the skate park, only now they do not have a over thirty Lucha making fun of them in poems in which they can't understand.
4. A high school girl at the skate park saw the El Vortex article on Slap and Neil is claiming to be his secret identity, even though no photos of the real El Vortex show him sporting matching quarter sized flaming suns and ying yang tattoos on his upper arms.
5. Though it's not the most serious notoriety, Colorado should really be known for something better then "home of the skate ninja".

Top 5 reasons that El Vortex should remain retired:

1. Coach is in better shape then him.
2. 70% of his following are now of legal age to purchase alcohol and no longer need to sit through a penny lane open mic night to get a hold of a few Sparks malt beverages.
3. Even Kris with a K voted against him in his last Slap one in a million entry.
4. With no reason to go filming, he can avoid the obligation of inviting creepy Jake along and the awkward free lunch.
5. We can finally find out who he is and end the mystery once and for all. I'm about 90% positive it's either Raul Pinto or Jarred Stoots.

Whatever his decision is in the end I have to say that it's been one of the most entertaining parts of skateboarding in the last ten years. In a sea of Baker Deathwish weed hype videos, which is the ICP of skateboarding, or another talented well behaved robot wonder kid, it was refreshing to see someone have the courage to hide behind a mask and tackle pros visiting town or fart into a camera. RIP El Vortex.

Robin Williams: Great actor, ok father...

I've taken a longer break from writing then usual as of late and have been working on a lot of exciting projects and one of those being the article you're about to read. I had the pleasure of spending some time with the actor, nay, the man known to the masses as sir Robin Williams. A talented actor, a devoted husband and father, I had often found myself restless at night wondering what the man has been up to lately. So, after pulling a few strings I got to sit down with Robin and his family to to ask a few questions and observe a week in the life of the Williams clan.

I arrived at the Williams compound greeted with a "BOO" as Robin jumped out at me behind a fern and started laughing. "Haha you scared me Robin, I'm Seth Powers I'm going to be interviewing you and the family for a little bit" i said nervously. A blank stare fell upon his face and he replied "you really have nothing to be afraid of Steve" as he lead me into through the front door into the living room. "As you can see I've done pretty well for myself" he said as he pointed to a piece of Flub hanging on the wall from his movie "flubber". I had to admit, it was pretty humbling standing next to an actual piece of goo from the movie. "Wow, is that real goo from your movie"? I asked. It's flubber not goo and flubber like all other forms of magic and happiness are make believe and are not real, a real actor would know that" he replied with a smirk. I was embarrassed and quickly changed the subject. "Hey is that your son, handsome young man" "blah blah boogaly woogly sweet baba lama" Robin replied. Robin jr. looked on angrily. "Some times you want to have a talk with your dad and not the genie from Aladdin" he yelled, then he flipped over his Jumanji game board and ran to his room.

I thought this would be a good time to spend some time with misses Robin Williams, but she was out sun bathing with the pool boy the whole week as he serenaded her shirtless with his saxophone. "Oh Robin, yeah he's a real Casanova...who wouldn't want to have sexual intercourse with the man child from Jack"? "And boy was that role a stretch" she said. I was starting to feel awkward at this point, I mean come on! Why don't these people respect this man like I do? He's funny, charming, witty and...suddenly it hit me that I don't really even like Robin Williams at all. I really liked Ray from everybody loves Raymond, how on earth did I mix these two up? I was pretty drunk I guess but geeze, I felt bad for Robert or Rob or whatever his name was and I wanted to find him to apologize so I went back to the house and Robin had locked himself in his room. "Rob come out, I'm sorry I confused you with Ray Romano from everybody loves Raymond" I said. "Rob come out, I'm sorry I con..." It's a yak back he yelled, surprised you didn't know that. He invited me in the room where we talked and laughed and he even farted in a can and tried to get me to smell it just like in "Jack", a tempting offer but I passed.

So anyway, I've been pretty busy lately.

Stories that have made the rounds, but never made it to writing...

In an average week for me I would say something unbelievable, horrible, funny, disturbing happens about 3 times. I have allot of stories that I've accumulated over the twenty three years I've lived on this earth but I also have the pleasure of being surrounded by people who have almost as bad luck as me and are usually out of their minds. This is a story that happened in 2006, there were six of us in a four bedroom house infested with mice and in a rough part of town. All kinds of stuff happened at this house, but this is the story I feel should be told first. The story involves two of my friends, one of which is Mike Katz, and the other is a gremlin that I love dearly, Yabo. So, here is the story of Mufasa the 365 Ib black man.

A typical night, meaning every night, was capped off with drinking loads of cheap beer in our living room and blaring music from Yabo's laptop. During these living room sessions a man wandered onto the porch and introduced himself as "Mufasa" and began explaining that he in fact used to live in our house. Words were exchanged and long story short Yabo did not feel comfortable letting this guy come into our house. We had heard the story and thought it was funny and weird but was quickly forgotten. In a house where Prostitutes are fighting your friends and then out of nowhere giving strangers blow jobs in your front yard, selling drug addicts fake crack and having them come back throwing bricks only to hit the one Innocent bystander in the chest, stoner girl friends fighting stoner girl friends, and two weapon crazy best friends in the addict making mid evil weapons and bombs...well, things don't seem weird when on Colfax ave.

A few weeks had gone by and Yabo had returned from school to an empty and dimly lit house with the door open. He turned the lights on and headed upstairs to hear the shower running and figured that someone got drunk and decided to shower, leaving the house open to all due to their own negligence. So Yabo went about business as usual in his room whether that was drawing demons, eating mac n cheese, or picking his nose while farting I couldn't tell you, but what I can tell you is that it all stopped when the bathroom door opened. I tall sillhouette of a figure stood there and as the steam cleared a freshly showered Mufasa walks out of the bathroom with yabos towel around his naked body. Shocked, Yabo asks "dude, what the fuck are you doing"? Mufasa explains he used to live in this house and it's ok cause he needed a shower. "You gotta get out of here man or I'm calling the cops" Yabo says, while Mufasa assures him that it's ok because "I got you guys a pizza, it's on the counter". Upon further inspection there was in fact a fairly fresh looking large pizza on the counter, which someone would later come to eat because it "looked buttery to them". Exactly how Yabo got him out of the house after that is a mystery to me but he did and that's what mattered.

Following the visit we all heard the story and couldn't get enough of it, we even stumbled across a closet where he stored some of his goods. But none of the stuff we ever found after he left compared to when Mike Katz came home from vacation, not knowing of Mufasa nor his antics, went to his room and came out holding up a pair of size 38 soiled phat farm jean shorts and asking "Uh, who's are these"?

Took a brief hiatus from writing but now I'm back...

It's been a pretty crazy month, I'm still living on Canyon's futon and providing the living room with a certain aroma only a true best friend can produce from his feet. I got a new job, I work for a chill snowboard company and half the clothing has stash pockets for...shhhhhh, ya know, buDZ. Things were really looking somewhat up until I got robbed three blocks from my house by a child with a knife. I've been pretty paranoid latley and my pride, or what's left of my pride, is bruised. Not to mention I have a whole new fear of black people in general, but mainly black children. After all this trama I've been through I figure the least I can do is give my advice and insight on what to do if ever in this situation from the eyes of a twenty something white guy who's super good with advice.


First things first, panic: As soon as I noticed this young man trailing me and following every move I made after picking up a good amount of money, I made sure to make every suspicion I had of this very vocal and aloud. "fuck, I can't believe this kid is following me and I have all this cash and various ipods" I said, then quickly realizing I made a mistake I followed it with a smooth "I wouldn't go messing with me though, espicially since I got diagnosed with being insanely crazy". This let's all young thugs know that yes you do have tons of money but you are also inanely crazy, which means you are capable of doing all types of crazy stuff including wandering around Malcom X ave really high with lots of cash on you.

Step two, run away: I wandered into the street where the young man quickly followed me, I knew at this point that something was wrong cause even though I was a little high I could clearly see him making gestures of slitting my throat towards me. "Yo, what time is it" he asked hopeing that I would pull out my phone, but I came right back with "I don't got the time, especially for this". I'm not sure what I meant by it exactly but when I said it I gave him a look like there was nothing in the world he could say to top that line, while he just looked at me with a "I'ma steal dat phone" stare. The light turned green and I started skating and I looked back and he was chasing me, I skated faster and he ran faster so the chase was one...sort of.

Get caught by thug tween: As fast as I thought I was skating, the kid caught up to me relitively quick. He was yelling "gimme dat phone, gimme dat phone" and the closer he got he began swinging at my head and head realated areas. I stopped short and grabed my board knowing that the joke was on him cause now I had a weapon ...but as soon as I picked the board up he kicked it away."Oh fucking...oh boy", my mind was blank as I stared the cock eyed angry young man face to face. He asked for the phone again and I said "uhhhh, no you....this is like my phone man". The second time he asked he pulled out a knife fromthe pocket of his khakis and put it towards me.

Give your phone to the kid: At this point we're in the middle of the road across from an elementary school where children are laughing and playing, older kids are playing dice and no gooding stop and watch as I'm being threatened at knife point. He has no interest in my wallet, my ipod nor anything but my phone so I pulled out my $40.00 cracked screen phone and he took off. I was left standing in the road sorounded by people who witnessed a grown man being robbed my a child. I skated away from Malcom X ave not knowing where to go or what to do.

I later got to the house, feeling a little high off of both being robbed and smoking before the robbery. I quickly wrote a description of the kid down on a piece of paper and it read "Black youth, 13-16 yrs old, light skinned, crooked eye, white shirt and khakis with short hair". I read over the description later and decided that the chances of finding just one young guy with khakis and a white shirt sporting a crooked eye in my neighborhood was insane, since on my block alone there's a 60/40 crooked eye ratio, so I threw the paper away. I lost my phone, I felt defeated, but somewhere in Bedstuy right now there is a young cock eyed boy looking through cell phone picks on said phone and stubbling on a rather large collection featuring my penis peeing in different spots around NYC and all my troubles float away.

Anyway, my advice is to not get robbed. It's the worst, I would much rather eat snacks or drink beer, maybe drink a few snacks like that drinkable yogurt they have now. Just promise me you won't get robbed by a crooked eyed ruffian in the projects.

"I'm gonna show up"

In what has become sort of trade mark of mine, I quit my job the other day with nothing lined up after it. No prospects, no leads, no friends to recommend me for another job...no friends at all really. When I put in my two weeks notice and walked out of the stock room I felt so empowered until I opened the door and walked out of the store, opened my wallet only to see 15 Colorado IDs I had collected from friends, an expired metro card and a coupon for a restaurant that I'm pretty sure went out of business more then 4 years ago and I realized...I am completely fucked. Later that week I began working through my last two weeks with a new perspective on work that I had never realized, the less you do the better you look.

I came in about thirty minutes late every day, and when I did finally get to work I procrastinated as long as possible. I made small talk with my supervisor, I drew allover the walls of the stock room and I hunted flies downstairs in my socks. In a forty hour work week I think I worked about 2 1/2 hours tops. Every person I worked with was not only impressed by my change of attitude, but insisted I revoke my two weeks notice and stay with the team. These people hated me three days ago, but when I got a "joose" malted beverage at Duane reed across the street and fell asleep under the jackets section of the stock room they all thought it was hilarious and couldn't imagine working without my new "antics". Even my manager took notice of me and asked if I would stay longer, not because I'm a hard worker but she said "you're pretty funny, the first month I didn't even think you knew how to speak English cause you didn't talk and I thought you were gonna shoot the store up".

People at my work got wind of me leaving and came up to me to ask about it. As time went by and my two weeks were winding down, I realized that these two weeks were the best I'd had here in the year I worked there. One of my bosses even asked me to stay a little longer cause she knew I had no back up job, and I accepted. My main boss walked in shortly after and asked when my last day was and asked if I liked cake, this may be a little confusing to some but at my work we have about 6 managers looking over us at all times because were all completely retarded, and I replied "it was gonna be tomorrow but now I'm not sure". Time went on and on what was supposed to be my last day, I called out.

The next day, I came into work thinking nothing of it. I did my usual routine of zoning out for a few hours and avoiding real work until I saw a manager looking at me like I was a ghost. Then I realized, everyone was looking at me like a ghost. People were looking at me and whispering "is that POWERS"? I was confused...until someone told me about the party they had for me the day before. The main boss of my department had bought me an ice cream fudgy the whale cake the day I didn't show up with personalized icing reading "goodbye and good luck Seth, we will all miss you"!!! Luckily, the boss wasn't there the whole day and I was stuck wondering if I still work here or am I just here and not welcome? I work tomorrow at 7am and I decided I'm just gonna show up and see what happens, I mean hopefully this guy doesn't take me quitting and not showing up to my own farewell party and then showing up to work after my last day seriously, right?

An old fashioned flashing...

First things first, I am truly sorry for the lack of stories lately. I've been sleeping on my twenty year old friends futon for the past month and the only time I have to use his laptop is when he goes to the orthodontist to get his braces tighten. Tonight at dinner, this twenty year old told me that his dad said that if said twenty year old ever had a son that I would be sleeping on his couch...jokes on him though cause I'm not even sleeping on a couch so...you know, man. Any who, here's a little insight on what's been going on with me lately.

A few weeks back, on the way to my 6am shift at the stock room I work at on Broadway, I was casually walking down Crosby st. reading the newspaper minding my own business. I say "casually" because I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and I say "minding my own business" because most people I know are not willing to socialize with me. The streets are completely empty, it's just me and my am new york newspaper. Halfway in reading the "top 5 reasons why we suspect John Mayer may be quiting twitter" I see a jogger approaching me looking me dead in the eye. I thought it was strange at first because he was staring at me pretty hard and I thought "maybe he knows I rubbed deodorant allover this shirt cause I left it under my moldy towel", but then I realized why he was starring at me with that look. As we passed I made eye contact with this man, and as our eyes met he started veering his eyes downward as if he had something he wanted to show me. So, I moved the paper out of my way and low and behold I see a penis in the mans hand and he's shaking it at me. He gives me a little grin and shakes it harder, and stares at me with a little more aggression.

My mind went completely blank, and I just started laughing and I said "what are you doing"? "Are you serious right now"? The man gave a little chuckle and continued the penis shaking...he was really shaking this thing, but with aggression. I don't really know how to describe it but imagine that you were robbing someone with a banana, and for some reason to get your point across you shaked the shit out of it in the persons direction to let them know you were serious, except instead of a banana you were holding your penis. At this point I was just laughing, the man got angry, put his penis away and ran off. I continued to walk to work and kind of forgot about it.

Later that day, I tried to remember if I actually had a man shaking his penis at me or if I somehow dreamed the whole thing. I had to tell somebody about it, so I told this guy I worked with and he didn't really seem to find it as funny as I did. It's pretty crazy how "real" shit gets when a penis is involved, but everyone treated me like I was some kind of victim. "Are you ok"? "Did the penis touch you"? "Was he cumming or something, why was he shaking this darn thing"? After I talked about it, I realized that maybe this wasn't as funny as I thought it was to other people, I mean sure if the penis was wearing a top hat and a monocle and did a evil dance of sorts maybe, but nobody was getting the genius of the penis shake. Also, this man chose me out of everyone else in New York to shake his penis at, like he saw my face and said "Ohhhhh, you're gonna get some penis pal..."

Any who, a jogger walking around in a city filled with millions of people chose me to shake his penis at, so it's kind of ego booster...jealous much?

Recipes for today's spender...

I don't really consider myself much of anything but one thing I can say is that I can make some pretty Delicious meals in the toughest of times. Just because you're broke doesn't mean you can't enjoy the foods you've grown to know and love. I got the recipes to help you get fatter while keeping your wallet fat as well...nice. Here are a few recipes I've been cooking up in my kitchen lately that I know your gonna love. If you don't love these then you're probably a retard or a girl.

1. Seth's famous pb&j ish: I was too broke to get bread, peanut butter or jelly when I came up with this little number. First, make sure you have all of these ingredients before preparing this meal: 1 red otter pop, preferably frozen, 1 hand full of shelled peanuts and 2 parts saltine crackers. Shove the hand full of nuts into your mouth and take a shot of the otter pop. Mash it around your mouth for a bit and then throw in a saltine brand cracker. Concentrate on mixing all this stuff in the mouth so you really get all the flavors, when you can no longer bare it you can go ahead and swallow the medley. It takes a little bit for your stomach to tell your brain that it hates this, so eat it fast ok.

2. Beef steak with broth: This is a great gourmet meal at a thrift store price. You will need 1 pack of beef ramen. Bring water to a boil before putting ramen in. Once cooked, drain the water and mash up the noodles into a ball with your hands. Sprinkle the ball with the beef seasoning packet and then fry the mashed up noodle ball over the stove. The only complaint about this one is the overall taste and the texture of the whole thing is really unappetizing.

3. Bread sandwich: An excellent alternative to the "something" sandwich, all you need for this one is 3 slices of wonder break. Put two of the pieces in a toaster until golden brown. Now, put the third slice in between the two toasted slices and enjoy your bread sandwich. I like to pretend that it's meat and cheese in there, that'd be good.

4. Go to Snice: It's not really a recipe, more of a suggestion on where to go to get free food if your me. It's vegan and my ex girlfriend works there but other then that I have no complaints. I recommend the "whatever Serena gives me for free after hovering around the counter". That shit is usually pretty alright I guess.

5. The end: I couldn't come up with any more recipes, so I decided to end the post on number five instead of just thinking of another stupid recipe and then writing an ending mainly because I'm lazy and I feel sick from eating at Palace fried chicken with Franny...damn, Palace is pretty much the tits. I tried to get Franny to order the "Italian burger" but he wussed out. I'm not really sure what makes the burger Italian because the only difference between that one and the normal one is that its on a hero roll and it has french fries on it, but I'm Italian and I love this thing...so stereotypical.

Trick tip: lurking at the local skateshop

Over the past couple years I've seen a few tricks I've had go away, learned a few new ones and all the while maintained the same great attitude that everybody I know loves...or doesn't like at all. It's never a good feeling when you've been doing something for so long and you start to feel like you're regressing, getting old, feeling fat and your feet hurt. Lately, I've regressed back to my skate shop lurking past and I'm loving it. Over on N.11th and some street lies a little skate shop named "kcdc" and as it turns out I've started feeling pretty comfortable there. But there is an art to lurking and if you don't do it right you could totally be killing a chilled out buzz, and that shit is weak. So, here are a few tips on lurking, and if you keep at it, advanced lurking.

1. The entrance: Judging by the "hello" you get from one of the disgruntled employees you will know exactly how much lurking time you're in for that day. "Hey Seth, what's going on man"? That is a nice and friendly welcoming, you usually get these when you haven't been in the shop for like a solid week. "Seth, back again huh...what do you need"? This is the welcoming you will usually receive, and luckily for me I prefer that one because the angrier the employee gets, the more time I have to complain with somebody, even if their complaints are about me.

2. Browse the merchandise: I usually start off with the boards, this is a good one because you know they aren't gonna have the shape you want in stock because they never do, but you do get to make small talk like "man, still no ______'s in yet huh". Next make your way over to the shoes and ask about a couple models that they have but not in you're size. It's cool because last month you bought a pair of nike's there and they were pretty expensive so you got about a solid two months of shoe section lurking before your next actually purchase. The shoe guy has probably ran to the back to avoid you at this point so now slowly start looking at some clothes. I like to pick out a stupid shirt or some silly board shorts and go "imagine me in these, that'd be a riot right"?

3. Start trying flat ground tricks in the shop: This one is great because you literally just left somewhere you were actually skating to come to the skate shop where it's 119 degrees to skate a five foot cemented area really loudly. Some of the employees are bummed because they're hung over, but every time they look over with an annoyed look just say you were landing whatever trick earlier but now you "don't know what's wrong with you today, I can't believe this". At this point you've worked up a real sweat which leads into the next tip...

4. Making hints on getting free weird drinks: "Damn I'm thirsty, I really need a vita coco or a red bull or something"? Offer to make a run to the store so they at least think you're being slightly sincere but know they have stacks of energy juice back there for days, and guess what? Their luke warm and ready to make your stomach into a bubbling witches cauldron. I mean what else are you supposed to drink, water? Yeah, ok...

5. Take a load off: This is the peak of your lurking mission, similar to the highest high a junkie gets while shooting up. Make you're way over to the bench right after you chug a few piping hot red bulls and kick out however many idiot kids buying shit and lay down on the bench in the middle of the store, ahhhhhh. Your so comfortable at this point that I'm pretty sure it's against NYC laws to kick you out. If you feel so inclined go ahead and take those shoes off for a little bit and subject everybody to your foot odor. Oh yeah, that's what I'm screamin...

6. Make your exit: At this point, all the employees are in the back or out front smoking. You only noticed because you'd been talking while laying down for about twenty minutes and finally asked them for something and got no response. Take a look around you and make sure to leave all garbage and weird shit you were carrying with you at the shop so that if nothing else you have an excuse to come back later. Take a final browse around the store and say "Yeah I might come back and buy so and so tomorrow...". Now from here I would recommend going to the park and lurking over there until you find someone you slightly know from meeting once or twice and barging in on their conversation/picnic, but hey that's just what an advanced lurker would do.

I hope I answered a few questions for all you novice lurkers out there, and maybe for a few of you old pros. Now just sit back, relax, and wonder why they haven't asked you to work or skate for the shop yet. Some people just don't know talent from a hole in the ground I guess.

I'm always almost getting fired...

Every day I come into work I have been fearing that it's my last. My bosses are fed up with me, my co workers say I suck and the new kids are already cool guying me. I can't eat in the team lunch area because I'm scared that if I doze off on the couch that somebody will smother me with one of those pillows that smells like fried body odor. When using the bathroom, somebody will come in and see I'm occupying the stall and rather then letting it slide and waiting their turn they open the door and scream "Seth's taking a huge shit in here and it smells pretty bad", really embarrassing me in front of the four fat girls outside the bathroom. The other day I had a long meeting at work with my bosses and I hated it, but maybe there is something to what they're saying, just maybe...

I'm too negative: I have been hearing this for awhile now, not only from my bosses and coworkers but from my family and friends which leads me to believe...that it's not true. I mean I don't think I'm a positive guy but I don't think I'm that negative. Wouldn't it make more sense that everybody I know both professionally and personally are making this up because they're all against me? Exactly... and besides, even if it doesn't make more sense it's definitely the easier way to look at it then re evaluating my whole attitude in hopes of changing my poor perception of everyone and everything and continue being a cancer to my co workers. So chill ok, yeah I like know what I'm doing and shit...

too sarcastic: Yeaaaaahhhh okkkk, ok sure, I'm TOO sarcastic...pshhhhh pull your head out of you're ass already. There is no such thing as being "too sarcastic" and if we really want to get into the semantics about this then sarcasm doesn't even really exist, I'm not sure if that's an actually fact, but a dude out side a store on st. marks playing with devil sticks trying to bum a cigarette off me told me that so if you have a problem with his logic then you know where to find him to tell him he's full of spit. Growing up, my Sicilian mother would openly use sarcasm and other dangerous forms of speech including the word "crap" all the time...I can't believe she set me up for disaster like this, fuck.

I'm too selfless and giving: Well, not exactly in those words. Here's the story, my department in the store I work at won a contest. The prize, which is yet to be announced, is rumored to be about 3 thousand dollars to spend on whatever you want to do with you're department. So, they began taking tally of peoples ideas on what they want to do with the money whether that be going to six flags, having a boat party or drinking themselves to death...I put up as my vote that we donate the money to a charity that we could all agree on. In my meeting that I mentioned earlier, this was the one topic that they were angry about the most..."why would you put something so stupid as donate to charity for you're vote, we all worked hard on this and that's the shit you vote on"? That what my boss had to say, I don't think he's very interested in sharing our prize but in the break room there is still a box that reads "Haiti food drive" which has been there since, well the hurricane. I guess they're waiting to send that out along with the food drive from 9-11 and kill two birds with one stone.

Offensive cartoons: This one has gotten me into more trouble than my offensive mouth. I'm always getting caught for loving little doodles of my boss or co workers that they take as an attack. One time I had the head of security and the top person in HR come take me into a room and interrogate me. From the moment I walked in every manager was on a walkie talkie panicking that "I had entered the building". When I got upstairs I agreed to talk with them and asked why they didn't approach me to talk with me instead of having a sting out to get me and they said "we feared it would be too dangerous". After questioning me for awhile they finally presented me with their key piece of evidence... a piece of paper with doodles of a hamburger shooting mustard onto a hot dog, a rollerskating kitten, a cell phone holding a sword and "a manager's name written somewhere on the paper" they said. They were very concerned and so was I, because I had thrown that doodle out with my lunch and I got see that it had bbq sauce and lettuce stains on the paper. They explained that the cleaning lady saw it in the garbage and felt she needed to contact someone immediately, and to think I never ratted her out for stealing toilet paper....

Anywho, I guess the point of this post is... can someone hire me please? I need a new job

crews, gangs, and posses...

Over the the period of time that I've been skateboarding all of these years I have been both blessed and cursed in running into all kinds of people that enjoy this all American past time with. Some of these people remain my best of friends to this day, others have gone too soon and some are probably doing time. Skateboarding by yourself sucks, and skateboarding with friends is awesome, but when you're skateboarding with a group of people and you give yourself a name is when things get interesting. So, here is a post on the history of crews that I've been a part of, been witness too or just saw along the way.

The L town stoners-This is the first real skateboard gang that I had ever really heard of up until this point. I had just moved across town to a rather crusty area of Colorado and had just started meeting a few people who skated in the neighborhood. The fist kid I met was named "lil Jake" . He was good at skateboarding and he was like his nicknamed stated indeed very "lil". We would skate around town and eventually met the likes of Shawn Kline, a younger kid who already had a tattoo of a cross on his arm and was always looking for a place to sleep and Zayn Hood, who up until this point I just saw on the bus and thought to myself "where did he even find orange zip off pants, and why does he think skating in heelies is a good idea". Eventually the gang formed and we, more they, were the "L town stoners" named both after all of them living in Lafayette, Co and their love of smoking weed.

TLG, The lollypop guild-Sooner or later our friend lil Jake had met the likes of Clay Kessack, an asian kid from a different town that came to the local skatepark rocking the hurtingest of nikes and drove a car, which one upped all of us L towners. They began hanging out more and more and eventually started the crew of the lollypop guild. They made stickers, worked on a video that never came out and would skate Clay's basement skatepark allot. Whenever lil Jake would go there I would hear the day after about how awesome Clay's house was, and that there were "soooooo many snacks, soooo dope". As foolish as it seems, I was jealous of this whole thing. Eventually all of my other friends got to skate the basement too, and they all said that they hated Clay's stupid dog. The dog died recently and I now live with Clay so...yeah, I guess I didn't really need to be in a basement with him.

S.W.A.B, skate with a boner- One day when wandering around the cafeteria of Boulder high school I had run into another person holding a skateboard. He was bald and had a beard, I waved and he ignored me...I thought it was weird for a couple of reasons but I figured he was a teacher there. This turned out to be John Brownlee, a kid a couple grades BELOW me who, thanks to puberty, looked like a grown ass man. I would see him at the skatepark drinking beers, hanging with all the cooler kids and smoking cigs. I tried to make small talk with him when I saw him until one day he told me "don't take this personally, but I really don't like you". Needless to say I took it personally, so you can imagine how shocking it was when I got a call on my mom's house phone from him the next day. He said that they had voted me into the crew and on the upcoming Saturday we were going to have a "crew battle" with some other skateboarders. I was confused and excited and then spray painted "swab" on all of my stuff. We drove around in a van, drank beer and it's rumored that chicks used to be super down for the crew right up until I joined...

Trickfactory- This was the crew that I fell into by accident thanks to my habit of constant hating. I was on my usual hating spree at the skatepark when I heard some hating from a new voice, this voice was Bryan Ball. Bryan was thirty something, constantly farting and skating all the time and this was appealing to me. Eventually I was hanging out with all the older skateboarders and underage drinking with over the hill heros it was always packed with arguments of who left Bryans galoshes in the rain, how Brandon would "eat the fuck out of some play dough" or Neal crashing his car in the parking lot of his apartment complex in a sparks induced stupor then teaching children at the ymca the next day. These were really fun times now that I think about it...

1086- As things started changing, we started changing. Friends were moving from Boulder to denver and my friends were making new cooler friends. Eventually I too moved to Denver and lived in the mouse infested living room of the 1086 house. There were parties every night, girl fights, mice, lice, gang wars, hate crimes and so on. The crew still exists I think and I'm about 90% sure that it's still the password to any email, debit card, or facebook account amongst my friends to this day.

Hey that was funny...

Lately I've been thinking allot about what's funny and what's not funny, what 's acceptable and what's inappropriate to laugh at. Besides all that jazz, I've been remembering allot of stuff that was super funny but kind of disappeared...I've also been thinking about hot pockets allot lately cause our oven is broken and we have no microwave so I would have to cook them in this hot plate we set up cause our landlord won't come fix our oven, even though I've left like 5 messages and 2 notes for him. Oh, and I have to pack up everything in the house to get ready to be sprayed for bed bugs... oh darn.

Top 5 things that I think should be funny or have gone away too soon.

Mad about you: I've never actually seen this show but the idea of someone like myself watching this show on a regular basis is funny to me, separately these words mean nothing but once they're combined it becomes the gayest thing ever in the history of the world and if you like it you might be gay...or Peter Goldberg.

John Brownlee's myspace.com photo thread updates: These were really funny back when we were all on Myspace.com. Every time our friend John would come back from a trip or move away and then come back to visit he would post up a series of photos telling the story of the trip. I was a little jealous of the laughs he was getting and decided to give it a try but quickly realized that everyone I knew was aware that I didn't talk like the quotes from the pictures and was just copying john...maybe this is why he hated me for so long....

ex.1

Carved back in to CO, shit

was buttery

Said "what urps" to this fool, shoulda

kept it coors but shit was buttery

After we cheers'd more beers things were looking

hekka tripy, shit was buttery

...and so on and so fourth. John's were actually funny though, shit was buttery.

Death: You always see all kinds of videos of people falling and getting super hurt and these videos seem to be real gutbusters, but why don't they just take it a step further and make death funnier? Everyones all serious about it like it's some big deal, how come I can watch a fat kid fall off a moped and barley survive and think it's awesome but the second I watch a kid get bludgeoned to death I'm the bad guy all of a sudden? yeah right, sounds like horse spit to me...

Thug cabin Canyon: Remember how funny it was when Canyon was going through that weird rap faze where he talked like Paul Wall, wore tall T's and "didn't give a funk"? New Canyon is weird, he goes to art galleries, has serious conversations and when the mood strikes him wears adult clothes. Call me crazy but I would have never imagined that OG Canyon would be going to brunch....

Backwards hat, check, tall T, check, skipping

class, check, humming Ja rule song, check, OG

Canyon was taking paid time off for the "players"

holiday...

Here's "emo ass Dylan" Canyon, this was the

middle stage and death of OG Canyon...

Enter in new Canyon. Besides the

beer, sparks can, weed grinder,

yo yo's and garbage everywhere

this guy looks like he could think

he's important. Somewhere in that

Clark Kent body OG Canyon is still

gripping wood grains in the turning

lane.

Who is that dude?: Actually, it's whosethatdude.blogspot.com run by Denver's own Derek Milton. The birth of this blog was around the same time as my beloved Farthumorquarterlyzine, but were completely different. Derek's was geared more towards funny videos, stories, and the famous "things you never want to see associated with a loved one". With more and more blogs popping up each day I'd hate to see this old gem be thrown aside, but with it's lack of recent updates it may be sharing a plot in the blog grave yard next to claykessack.com.

A letter to the Shorty's company...

I recently saw that the company "Shorty's" has come back from the grave and started making skateboards again, or skateboard I should say because they only have one line available. Anyway, I contacted them to see if I could become the Rep for the NYC area and if they could help make that dream come true. Keeping my fingers crossed....

Dear Shorty's inc,

I'm writing this letter in regards to the new website and more importantly the revival of Shorty's skateboards. Eighth grade through tenth I rocked nothing but shortys gear and zip off pants, carried around the Shorty's first aide kit, skated nothing but Shorty's boards because that shit had pop, which I'm sure the board did but I didn't because I was pretty fat and the slogan for mine would be "that shit has bad nose slide marks". Somewhere along the way though, my beloved Shorts kind of disappeared and I started supporting antihero up until now. When I saw that you guys are going to carry 8.5 Shortys boards I nearly fainted because I can still maintain my barney bowl trollness with the flair of a Shorty's board, pretty buttery. So, I guess I'll stop beating around the bush here and get to the point of this letter...I think you should make me the rep for Shorty's in NYC and I have brainstormed reasons on why this is a good idea.

*My job is a total bummer: I work in a clothing store on Broadway in the stockroom, its in the basement where I sort hangers or move heavy stuff around all day. All the people I work with either make fun of me for being white or for dressing like a "garbage man", which I kind of have mixed feelings about because I think garbage men dress pretty steezy. Every time I try to chill their all on my case and stuff, like what's up with that man? Also, I don't like any of the people I work with.

*I'm pretty ok at skating: I'm not gonna toot my own horn here but I'm pretty good a few tricks, I have good frontside grinds, smithers, and tailslides in a couple variations and in rep standards I would probably be considered "good". Plus, my friends are actually good. I have this Asian friend that has really good frontside tuck knee grabs that he tail smashes in, my friend Canyon Castator... he's even on youtube or something, and well the rest of my friends are pretty funny if nothing else.

*I'm writing you a letter: I'm not claiming to have done something amazing or anything but come on, I am writing you an email. It's not much, but it's probably better then whatever crap your getting from some guy who used to do blow with the Muska and is owed a favor and is given this Rep job for only that reason, right?

Any who, thanks for taking the time to read this letter and possibly consider making a man's dreams come true. I'm not sure who's getting this, "helpdesk@shortysinc.com" sounds promising that it will get to the boss though. So if your willing to entrust me with thousands of dollars worth of merchandise to shell out as I see fit to radical dudes based sourly upon me writing you a letter to make me your NYC rep for your company then I look forward to hearing back from you.

Fondly,

Seth Powers

farthumorquarterlyzine.blogspot.com

Restaruant review: Big trouble in little china town...

Greetings and welcome to an exciting series of posts dedicated to the review of local cuisine and more! Our last review brought us to the scenic corner of Broadway and canal st where I tried an exotic plate of Halal food with a side of yellow slime glove pieces. This time however, I decided to take my taste buds a little deeper into china town and get the true new york experience. So, nestled in between knock off purse vender's and knock off scarf vender's lays this New York city staple.

Burger king, 273 Canal st.

As I entered the doors of Burger King on Canal st an overwhelming smell of human waste entered my nostrils. This was not the smell I was expecting from such a respected restaurant but the longer I breathed in this waste, the hungrier I became. As I pushed my way through the gaggle of a thousand German tourists waiting to use the one burger king bathroom that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy, I finally got to the counter. The menu was extensive, and I was impressed. Burgers, cheese burgers, two burgers, bacon two burger with cheese instead of buns, Oreo sour patch kids kit kat frozen pies...this was gonna be a hard choice. In the end though, I had to stick with the "value menu" options. For those of you who are not familiar with the "value menu" this will include items that are either too frowned upon by society to be on the big menu or items that just sound like a bad idea, "chicken nugget sandwich" or "BK mozzarella fingers". Either way your gonna end up with more mediocre food slightly less then if you just ordered a combo meal.
The woman at the counter looked at me, almost through me, and said something that was not in English nor any other language I've ever heard. She had black growths on her face, which is popular among the Asian elderly when they reach 1,000 years old and become part dragon. "Oh, I'll have two of the whopper jr sandwiches with no mayonnaise, and a value fries and drink" I said with excitement. "Bongdue" she replied, I was puzzled. "bongdue, bongdue" she asked again, so I decided to shrug which is the universal sign of "I have no idea what you're fucking saying" and she quickly solicited the help of a fellow employee who somehow spoke less English then herself. Now, I had two people saying "bongdue" at me so I just agreed to get my order "bongdue" and waited for my food.
They called my number and I took my tray to sit at the table where I can peacefully eat and be solicited to buy weed and fake watches throughout the entire meal. Two bites into my first sandwich and it became apparent that not only did it have mayo on it, but it had extra mayo and was a chicken sandwich. I now Know that "Bongdue" means to fuck up your entire order.
The chicken was not bad though, and it turns out they got my second sandwich correct. This tasted like a mixture of every gas station junk food on a bun covered in acid and after I finished it I was starting to feel like I was really high or about to die. After i finished the meal I knew I had to find the nearest restroom as fast as humanly possible. The German tourists were crowding Burger Kings bathroom so I ran to Starbucks where I could become violently ill in peace.
Besides getting sick, I give this restaurant 4 stars: one star for the food, one for the "bongdue" option on the menu, one for the weed you can buy while you eat, and one star for the fact that I went back to the same Burger King for dinner that night after dieing in the Starbucks bathroom.

high school enemies revisited part one...

During the four years I spent within the cell like walls, man that sounds so angsty, of Boulder high school I made three friends and about 400 foes. Though I hated all of these people relatively equally there are a select few that rised so far above the rest that to this day I can easily say I still hate them. This particular piece of shit was my Nemesis, he truly was my enemy and if I had the chance I probably would have done something terrible to him, or awesome depending on how you look at it. So, come take a journey down the memory lane of hatred as we reminisce on Travis Moe.

Meet Travis Moe: Within the first four minutes of meeting Travis I knew we were not going to get along. He was the first kid to grow dreadlocks in our class, he wore sandals and listened to strictly "trip hop" or "conscious rap". His rich family lived in a mansion across town but as the days passed he would dress dirtier and dirtier and the only article of clothing he would change was his hackysack or his smock that he acquired from his trip to the Himalayas on his family's non conventional Christmas vacation because he's that worldly. He always got good grades and wrote at least five papers on why marijuana should be legalized, some how this was more legitimized than the other papers written by less environmentally heroic pot heads because all the teachers at school identified with his wealthy hippy ready to protest image. Yeah, I hate this dude.

During his high school career he hosted or led many protests and devoted his young life to making sure that President Bush be impeached or Marijuana be legalized or rap music that's about more then diamonds, guns and hoes be taken more seriously. His favorite protest was in the form of the "sit in". The "sit in" is the laziest form of protest on earth, and your telling people I'm literally gonna sit here and chill until something happens. In one particular sit in he caught the attention of the local media by refusing to leave the school library until George Bush resigned from office. The library sit in was a huge success to some of my friends who had claimed that they got high in the computer lab and may or may not have gotten a hand job from this slutty rich girl who's grandpa owns a big hardware store run in boulder and shall remain nameless. News reporters were covering the story and interviewing students all say on this Gandhi like figure we had in our library known as Travis Moe. I later got in a considerable amount of trouble when I was interviewed on the news and said that I was hosting my own sit in until someone killed Travis Moe.

I haven't seen this guy in a couple years now and the last I heard he was travelling around Europe or Asia or something in search of a new problem he can sit in on. As for me, I'm just gonna keep chilling and waiting for my sit in protest to shape up about the whole killing thing...and that domino's take me off their email list. I'm probably gonna order a pizza right now while I do this whole sit in thing so I guess I'll give them my email address one more time...just once though.

if I was a thousand years old...

Every so often, meaning everyday, someone tells me that I have a bad attitude. I used to counteract this ridiculous claim by complaining and making fun of said asshole but as of late I have come to terms with this. I have been on this earth for 22 long years now, and about 18 of them have been filled with my love of hating on everything and anything I can. Though Mccaren park, teenage lesbians, Clay, Peter, Cops on horse back, myself have given me tons of hating material as of late, I can't help but selfishly think of what it might have been like to hate throughout history. I have always had a bone to pick with some of these people, so lets give it a shot shall we?

Joan of arc: This chick is the Ellissa Steamer of history, skateboarding reference, and I am not a fan as you may have guessed. She led the french to a couple key victories in the hundred year war but what she forgot to do was show her boobs in Bill and Ted's excellent adventure. I'm second guessing my reference to Ellissa Steamer because I never want to see her boobs. One chick did something rad in the battlefield over the course of the worlds existence, thousands of dudes did too....any who, Joan of Arc was probably a lesbian.

Abe Lincoln: This dude was on the penny, and apparently loved black people which is ironic because I work with a ton of black dudes and survive souly on pennies I find on the floor of my room to buy doughnut sticks and tall cans from the bodega I live above. In second grade, I had to play honest Abe in a Play that my school put on. I refused to play the part because he was shot at a play and I thought that reenacting him being shot at a play in a play was weird...plus, I hated the hat and the beard was really itchy. Long story short, they gave the part to this Asian kid and I had to go down on all fours and pretend to be a table in the play instead. Since then, I've had beef with Abe.

Paul Revere: This guy is revered, no pun intended, as a hero but I just think he's a snitch. On the faithful night of his midnight ride, he rode through the Boston streets shouting "the British are coming, the British are coming". This always rubbed me the wrong way, I mean I like being free and stuff but I'm totally not into people ratting. He should have kept that shit on the low and passed a couple notes, threw up a tag with a subliminal message or something cool like that. Plus, he was in cahoots with Samuel Adams who is now responsible for the beer that fuels people that I am less then crazy about.

Benjamin Franklin: I'm pretty sure that the only thing I know about this dude is that he invented electricity or dropping acid or something. He's super fat, looks like he has an attitude and he probably has that smell that fat people have because their too fat to reach around themselves to wash. Plus, he's on money and was never president which is fucked because Chris Farley was fatter and way cooler then this powdered wig wearing dumbass...He was actually probably super smart, which also pisses me off.

Genghis Kahn: This guy was super angry, super into to killing stuff and really scary...which I don't agree with because everybody Knows that Asian people are not scary at all, their just annoying.

The great Bambino...

Following up on a series of quirky events in my childhood involving the Late great Richard Powers comes the third installment of "Crazy stories my dad told me". The scene takes place in Boulder, Co and a ten year old Seth gets ahold of a baseball that has an epic tale behind it. So here it is, enjoy.

"A grand prize".

My father had always been a pack rat, and like most pack rats every piece of junk that he owned had a unique and very long story attached to why he could not part ways with it. Amongst the hover craft, cases of pezz dispensers and 3d peep show magazines there was one thing that caught my eye...the snake skin baseball. The origins of the baseball changed from time to time but the basic plot remained the same. One faithful night in NYC, my father, along with the social elite of New York, was invited to attend Clint Eastwood's birthday party. He never got into too much detail on how he was invited or if he just showed up but I'm assuming that he snuck in if any of the story is true. So, while mingling and cock tailing he eventually makes his way to talkin with the man of the hour, big Clint. Some time goes by and the two become smitten with each other, my old man's got him in stitches, "He was dyin, I was on fire that night, I told the elephant in the bathtub joke" he explained, which on a unrelated note is my mothers least favorite jokes.

The night winds down, Clint wishes everybody off and then before my dad can get to the door Mr. Eastwood presents him with a gift. The gift, which he received from a celebrity on said celebrity's birth day, was a Snake skin baseball signed by Babe Ruth, and more importantly a symbol of there newly discovered friendship. "It's one of a kind" my dad explained, "and if there are others out there, there aren't that many", hmmmmm. I had heard the tale so many different times. I hated baseball, but something about that baseball called to me, it was my leg lamp. After years of begging, he finally caved in and gave me the baseball. It was one of the happiest days of my young life, I held it and smelled it and thought "this is the greatest moment of my life". Two weeks later however, I had found yet another siren call in the form of a sack of pogs and a tattered playboy magazine, roughly estimated the conversion rate from middle school street cred to us dollars is about $1 million, so I gave up the ball to hopefully finally drop mine. Upon hearing that the ball was missing, my dad was pretty upset and a little skeptical of the story I came up with. Though He had never seen the movie, my dad did know that I never hung with any kid named yeah yeah, I didn't have a tree house and there was no ball eating dog named the "beast " that lived near by, that and he over heard me watching The Sandlot with my friend and discussing the lie.

Fuck me, right?

The King of the Cobras, truley missed...

This morning, while walking to the train at 5 in the morning amongst the hacids and the crack addicts was really when the reality of the situation had hit me. On the train while listening to my ipod on shuffle, which is never a good idea when you get your music off Clays laptop which about 90% of which is dj so and so's shmuck face remix, I heard a song that made me cry. I'm not proud to say that it was T.I.'s dead and gone, which doesn't exactly relate to the situation but none the less it happened. In a crowded subway car I was crying and listening to this song and then all of a sudden I just imagined if Dempsey had been there and seen me and his reaction to the fact that I was crying to T.I. and I started laughing. Dempsey was always quick to call you out, or himself out and make everybody laugh. He was always down for anything and was by far the gnarliest guy you'd ever know. I wish more then anything that I could come out to Colorado and be there with all of my friends who really are my family and share my memories with everybody and help heal the people I care most about but I can't and it sucks. So, I wanted to share a few things that make me smile, laugh, and look back and just think about how crazy it was to be around Jake Dempsey. Here it is, my top 5 for Jake Dempsey, RIP buddy.

1. The 1086 house in Denver- Every night at that house was insane and usually Jake had something to do with it. You couldn't help but just sit back and watch the mayhem unravel and how crazy/awesome/terrifying whatever he was doing was. The rug trick, cheering on chick fights, self surgery, and in the end, no matter what happened it would always bring everybody together to laugh and shout and reminisce about the night before and it brought everybody closer.

2. Any one of the 100's of injuries- No matter how gnarly he was injured, he would never show any pain. He was a super human who didn't skate but yet would eat shit harder then anyone of us at any given moment. You would see him the next morning, cig in his mouth and that glazed over face giggling saying "fucking check this shit out...". Then, after he should be bed ridden and not be able to walk you see him in the back yard cutting down a tree or making a fire pit.

3. Never backed down...ever: My group of friends are always willing to sacrifice themselves before letting a friend get hurt and Jake was the King of that. No matter what went down, even if it was our fault, he was there along with co viking Jari to throw down and get crazy. Brass knuckles, ancient weapons, stink bombs, you name it and Demspey had it.

4. Anything skull or grim reaper related...anything: Yabo and I used to go to Dempseys room and watch tv on his 230" plasma before he threw a remote at it for acting up, and always crack up at the shit Dempsey had. Skull posters, grim reaper bandannas and or a skull guitar ashtray Dempsey owned it, and it was awesome because it was just how Dempsey was, he pulled it off.

5. "I am what I am"- One of the best parts about Dempsey was he never tried to be anything he wasn't. No matter how many crazy fazes the rest of us went through Dempsey was always himself, didn't care what people thought and I always admired that. Jake Dempsey was true blue, and I'm gonna miss him and I know a whole bunch of other people are too.

So, I'm gonna remember the good times I had with Jake and I'm gonna remember the good times I have with all my friends. So, when your drinking your 40oz of king cobra just watch out not to get the rug pulled out from under you by Dempsey, cause he got me every time.

RIP Jake Dempsey

I've been diagnosed with writers block...

Though I've given it a college try about 5 times now, I just can't kick this writers block kick. I don't know what the problem is seeing that I usually have something terrible happen to me daily. So, instead of a new post I'm gonna just try to come up with some ideas "out loud". I'm hoping that this will get the juices flowing inside my head and get some stuff going, maybe a Venn diagram or a thought tree.

1. Shit peddle out yet another top 5: These can really be about any one of a number of things, a whosy whatsy, a thing a majig, etc. I usually try to gear it more towards hurting somebody that I care about's feelings, thus sealing my fate as a complete asshole in their eyes forever.

2. Another ironic restaurant review: Last time I did the Halal cart, maybe this time I'll do a fast food restaurant or something. If I could just figure out a way to get this crappy food for free then I won't feel guilty about sliding this garbage down my gullet. Taint nothing wrong withs a little crown fried chicken every once and ah fuckin a.

3. Figure out some thing about Clay or Peter to poke fun at: These characters are an endless supply of blog posts, though I do start to feel guilty about it. Sometimes when I'm asleep in my bed I kind of think I can feel Clay hovering over me with a pillow or a shoe string ready to choke me to death. I also have this dream where I'm a hot dog and I'm getting chased by a giant hamburger.

4. Make a post of all the poems I wrote in high school: Some were about how miserable it was to be an angsty misunderstood teenager in this capitalist nation of conformity and others were about friends I have now girlfriends that I had crushes on. It's funny to look back on those times and think about the problems I had then and the problems I have now...both being that I have to smoke weed out of a tin foil pipe in shame.

5. A photo update: I don't think I have enough notoriety yet to simply post pictures of myself and my friends doing stuff that everybody else does but it's somehow more important and artistically valid because were "important". Besides, there's enough of that at www.thegreendiamond.com, and their way funnier then our group of friends anyway...right? Clay was on that site once wasn't he...

Well I guess I'm out of ideas guys, sorry...or did I just peddle out some shit on you just now? I know, I just blew your mind.

throw away footage cause all's we get is garbage

Out of the kindness of my heart

Continuing on the theme of the last post, I have more stories from the man, the myth, the legend that is my father, the man who helped spawn yours truly. These next couple of stories are some of my favorites that have stuck with me since I was a child. So with out further a do, heres another story to brighten your day.

The Coney island freak friend show.

Growing up in Bay ridge, BK, my father lived with all girls and his mother. A loaner of sorts, he seeked desperately to find a friend that was a) was not a part of his family b) was not one of his sisters, who as he described them spent their entire lives in the bathroom just to bother him and that all 8 of them were all supermodels....

It can be tough being a kid, and he had it even worse being as he was super fat. He would always tell me how he would have to work twice as hard to be super funny so that people would like him and not just think as the "fat kid" which looking back on my own child hood was true, I mean it's one thing when a fat kid in zip off pants, a bowling shirt and a rat tail is entertaining you. But when said fat kid is just trying to hangout and "talk", well that shit just can't fly.

So, on what seemed to be one of his many excursions to Coney island to have a fun packed afternoon of larfs and the freak show, my dad was in for a surprise. Instead of bringing home 5 hot dogs and a basket of onion rings, he had brought home a best friend known only as "the wolf boy". He began to explain to me that he was not in fact a wolf, but just a kid with a ton of hair all over him...ahhhh, so he's not actually part wolf part boy huh, even when I was 5 I felt like I was being patronized a little. He began hanging out with the wolf boy more and more and before you knew it, they became best friends. So, like most best buds he had asked the wolf boy over for dinner with a warning attached about grandpa and his lack of sensitivity towards but not limited to blacks, jews, asains, fat people, skinny people, indians, everyone in my family, himself and especially wolf boys. If there's one thing I remember from the tales of pappy, it's that he hated wolf people.

As the Dinner began, Pappy immediately asked why his bowl of pasta wasn't being served to him on the floor considering that he's a dog. Wolfboy continued to eat the almost uneatable pasta from my grandmothers, this is a subject of many stories in itself always ending in "how the hell she thought you could boil meat balls I don't know", my father tried changing the subject but it's hard to Vere peoples attention away from the elephant in the room, especially if that elephant looks like teen wolf. With the mix of the food, a gaggle of supermodel sister staring, and Pappy on fire in his joke department Wolfboy quickly got up and ran back to the tent covered beaches of Coney island and back to his family. He was comforted by the bearded lady, the strongest man alive tried desperately to lift his spirits, the stretchy skin guy offered a helping hand, and the guy with no limbs kinda just laid there.

That was the last time my father saw wolfboy, and nobody was happier then Pappy. Until one hot summer day when walking from the Bronx in Manhattan all the way to Bay ridge Brooklyn all for a nickel off baseball cards( insert the "sometimes it's worth the trip Seth"...) Dad glanced at a news paper that just so happened to be on the page that read "wolf boy dead". His death however was a mystery, I think dad tried telling me that he suffocated on his own hair which I liked, but I'm also pretty sure there was a version where he was leaving Nathans hot dog stand and caught a stray silver bullet.

The End

I'm king of the world!

I would like to start off this post by saying that I do not consider myself a liar. I think that I was born with a special gift of storytelling, and when reminiscing about certain events they may seem at times a bit embellished. I guess I got this gift from my late father who was the best storyteller I've ever met. Growing up, I would love listening to his stories and be so fascinated with the idea that in my dads world there really was no distinction between reality and fantasy and anything can, and in the story would, happen. So, here is the first of "my dad's stories and ideas that can't believe actually happened".

"The titanic horse"

Before I begin this story I want to point out that up until I re told this story to a friend the other night did I realize how absurd this whole situation actually was and even more ridiculous is that I totally bought the whole thing up until yesterday. My dad was a pack rat, and in true pack rat fashion his home away from home was the salvation army. Convinced this is how were gonna get rich, my dad would buy everything from old pezz dispensers to ashtrays, vintage toilet seat covers, mannequins, rollerskates, exercise equipment etc. This is around the time that ebay first came out, so he really went all in on buying a bunch of shit that we didn't want/need/know existed. I'm pretty sure the whole time of this ebay fiasco which lasted up until the day he passed he only made like $48.50. Though it was super embarrassing being the family with a lawn covered in junk, it kept my mom pissed enough to not notice the terrible stuff my brother and I were doing, like lighting random fires and killing skunks.

So, one day my dad comes home with the find of a lifetime. It was a statue of some kind covered in sand that he bought at salvation army it smelled like "the ocean". This thing was left to soak in a cooler full bleach/water/broken dreams for about I don't know, like a year before the sand began to fall off. What was starting to become visible was that this was indeed a sculpture of a glass horse. This meant of course that this was a relic from the titanic. How he landed on that theory was beyond me, until I realized that my dad smoked allot of weed when I was growing up. One day, my brother was sneaking to the closet to get "something", I say something like that because until this day I don't think he'd admit that he was getting this old comic book that my dad had called the "peep show" with 3d images of ladies in bras, yeah, it was pretty awesome. So, reaching for the vintage hogan magazine, my brother knocked the cooler and broke the legs off the horse. My brother knew that he was fucked, my dad hadn't stopped talking about this god damn horse since he found it, I mean he would bring friends over to smoke weed and then stare at this amazing horse.

Heartbroken, my dad tried desperately to fix his white whale, but alas it was gone. My dad never forgave me nor my brother for the horse incident and anytime we would need money he would say "well if you didn't break the horse" or "you know how many pizza rolls the horse was worth" or "god, I loved that horse". According to him, my college fund was broken in that cooler. My dad was shattered man, that was until he bought a warehouse full of expired all sports soft drinks, star bucks mocha's and a hover craft at a blind auction on my birthday, but that's a different story.