26 September 2007

Hey Kool-Aid!, Jayseusian, I said Zeus Caboose!

M: Are we doing this thing or what? Are you just going to read Rotten Tomatoes top 10 Worst Reviewed movies?
V: "Watching Battlefield Earth is to movie watching what having a yeast infection is to sex." Oh man, that's horrible.
M: Ewww...yeast infections aren't the first thing I think of when I think of John Travolta, but they come in a close third, or fourth.
V: I'm reading reviews of "Half Past Dead" which is a prison escape movie staring Steven Seagal and Ja Rule. "When Seagal appeared in an orange prison jumpsuit, I wanted to stand up in the theater and shout, 'Hey Kool-Aid!'" That's horrible!

What do you do all the time in a car?
V: Drive?
M: I think this question wants to know what else you do in a car. Besides driving.
V: Listen to music?
M: You drum on your steering wheel. And you drink coffee.
V: YOU yell at every other car that - no. You yell at every other car.
M: Not EVERY other car. Just the ones that piss me off.
V: Usually you call them "Dude!" or "Fuck You!" You do this while on the phone with me.
M: You're not special in that regard. I tend to blur my phone conversations with my road rage. I spent a lot of time explaining, "Not you, I don't mean you should go fuck yourself."
V: Not your most charming trait, I must admit.
M: What is my most charming trait?
V: I think it depends on your audience. I rather like your eyes and the way you use them. Ooooo! Some people like your phone voice. Some people like your vast knowledge of literature.
M: Some people like my cooking.
V: Lots of people like your cooking. Myself included.
M: I don't cook in the car.
V: Thank Christ.

What's your ring tone?

M: Frank Black - the chorus to "If Your Poison Gets You." (I tried hard to find a clip of it. I failed. But I did find a Youtube clip of him singing "I Burn Today" which is my secondary ringtone.)

V: I also used to use "I Burn Today." Now my ring is something I made on my phone that I wanted to sound like a Lightning Bolt song:

Yeah. That pretty much sounds like my ringtone.
M: Except that it's lacking the godawful noise of it vibrating against the table.
V: Vbbb vbbb....vbbb vbbb
M: It's worse in the morning when you use it as an alarm clock.
V: Yeah, it plays like satanic Spanish music. I love that you capitalized Spanish and not satanic.
M: Satanic isn't a proper noun.
V: How come Jesus doesn't have an adjective? It should be like, "Jay-zeus-ian." Yeah. I think I'm going to use it in a sentence: "My cell phone wakes me up with like Jayzeusian Spanish music." Or would it be "Jesus-ian?"
M: Jayzeusian is more lyrical, but its inclusion of the word "Zeus" makes for a sticky denotation. We are not doing a good job of staying on topic tonight.
V: Zeus! Be-Zeus-is!

What happened at 10:00 am today?
V: Jesus, Jesus Zeus juice!
M: What?!
V: I said Zeus! I said Zeus caboose!
M: Didn't Bassem tell you that caboose means "nightmare" in Egyptian?
V: Not at 10 AM today he didn't. And, P.S. there is not such language as "Egypt-tian."
M: No?
V: I think they speak Jesus-ian. Or else Arabic.
M: Are you sure?
V: Dude, they speak Arabic. I'm being a jerk.
M: Dude, there is totally an Egyptian language.
V: Yeah, not since like 700 BC.
M: So? Maybe Bassem speaks Egyptian. I don't know. You don't know.
V: No, I know. Because he said, "Do you know what caboose means in Arabic?" Not motherfucking Egyptian. When they were speaking Egyptian our family lines weren't even like infant spermatozoa. We weren't even a thought. Egypt was like another planet at the time. What did you do at 10:00 today?
M: I was helping some motley kids do a "ramp lab." This consisted of groups of 3-4 kids making up a hypothesis about independent variables that could possible affect the speed in which a tennis ball rolls down a slope. One group changed the height of the slope. Another changed where they released the ball on the ramp. One group looked at temperature - they froze a tennis ball and dunked another in boiling water. My personal favorite, though, was the group that decided that the color of the ball would affect its speed.
V: Purple is pretty fast, you know.
M: What were you doing?
V: I was reading. In my studio.
M: What do you want to be doing twelve hours later, now, at 10 PM?
V: Getting REAL drunk and not worrying about going to bed. How 'bout you?
M: I kinda want to go to bed.
V: Is this like the 9th question? Do we have more questions?
M: Nope. This was the last one.
V: What was the first question?
M: What do you do in a car?
V: Read Jayzeusian Egyptian Zeus Juice Bottles. That should have been my answer. It would have saved us a lot of time and typing.

25 September 2007

Come along with the Snorks, Olives = God, Fat Viking Love

M: Caleb asked these questions a couple of months ago. We're only getting to them now.
V: It's sorta like electing a president and then having to wait like four months for him to actually get in office.
M: Or, waiting two years for Giuliani to take over. Because we can't do anything to stop that train wreck from happening.
V: Except feed him bits of glass every day until election day. That's a horrible way to go.
M: I just don't want him to go to office. I don't want him to shit glass.
V: I don't mind him going to the office. The coroner's office.
M: Maybe you shouldn't make veiled death hopes towards presidential hopefuls.

If you had to design an ideal summer camp what would it look like?
V: It would look like the Snorks. Is that the right word or is it the Snorkles? No, it's the Snorks. Can we get a video on that?

Man, I want to go to that summer camp.
M: I bet it's hard to keep a guitar tuned under water.
V: Not if you're a Snork.
M: What exactly are the snorks? They kind of look like the Zoloft bubble with a thick bendy straw coming out of their heads.
V: Snorks are depressed teenagers who go to summer camp and have a fucking blast playing in bands and having psychotropic drugs funneled into their skulls.
M: If I could make a summer camp it would probably be one without kickball. I fucking hate kickball. I hated playing it as a kid, I hated making other kids play it when I was a camp director. There is nothing redeeming about kickball whatsoever.
V: I expected you to answer with a Harry Potter theme in mind.
M: That would be ideal for making money, I assumed that the motivation for this question was to get ideas about what I thought would be ideal for kids.
V: I like your Hogwarts idea. It might be better suited for the academic year. But you know when those kids get out for the summer, you should send them to Snork Camp. We don't play kick ball.

Does not liking olives really make you a godless bastard? Seriously?
M: The background to this question is that one night The Epyllionaires were visiting Caleb with Ling and Billy. Caleb got a veggie pizza and promptly picked off all the black olives. The rest of us picked at them and Vincent called Caleb a godless bastard because he didn't like them.
V: I did?!
M: You did. Billy thought it was funny.
V: I think I probably said that because you used to have a habit of saying that god had a good day when he made olives or something to that effect.
M: What the hell are you talking about? I never said anything like that.
V: You so fucking did! In Providence when you would come to visit and we'd get olives from East Side Marketplace.
M: I didn't believe in god in Providence, either.
V: I'm not saying that you said "Olives are so tasty. It is a sign of tangible proof of the the existence of a higher being." I am saying you said what I said you said.
M: For sake of argument, let's say I said what you say I said. How does that excuse you from calling Caleb a godless bastard for his taste in pizza toppings?
V: Going on the assumption that god was having a good day when he made olives, and Caleb says he does not like olives, one is forced to decide whether god was having a bad day when he made olives or, if you are so inclined to think such things, that god was having a bad day when he made Caleb OR olives are not tasty. Knowing the truth that olives ARE tasty, it must be that it's the god thing AND I like Caleb and god was not having a bad day then BUT olives, as afore mentioned, are tasty AND god does not have bad days because he is god. Therefore, Caleb is a godless bastard. It may be, also, that I arrived at this decision because I was piss drunk.
M: . . .
V: That's a pretty good theory.
M: . . .
V: You have no rebuke?!
M: You make a lot of assumptions. I'm not sure that you can back the theory up with any tangible proof of anything. It's all very subjective.
V: I like Caleb. Even if we cannot share a devout passion for olives.

What do you think of this theory:
M: I guess it makes a fair amount of sense. (I'm going to post an image of the triangle so that we don't have to toggle between the blog tab and the triangle tab. )
V: Yeah. It kind of reminds me of billiards.
M: Billiards?
V: That thing that you use to get all the balls set up. What's that called?
M:Umm...pool triangle? Wikipedia says it's called a "rack."
V: There's a war joke somewhere in there.
M: I assumed you were going to make some reference to my tits (or female tits in general) but no, you went the political route instead of the crass route. I'm not sure which is better.
V: Maybe he should call it "Steinberg's Rack-ular Theory of Love" just 'cause, you know, triangles have three sides and this is just like, well, God, I don't know, one continuous thing. Is that like the slippery slope of love?
M: It isn't a continuous thing. It's kid of like a Venn diagram. The points of the triangle contain one attribute, the sides contain the two attributes that start and end the side, and the middle has all three attributes.
V: Also, it looks like it says "Viking Intimacy" and I'm like, what the fuck is that? In-fat-love.
M: Why do you think Caleb asked us about this?
V: Cause he wants some fat Viking love?
M: I don't see Caleb going in for fat Viking love.
V: Well, I don't understand Caleb's likes and dislikes. That's already been proven. Why do you think he asked us the question?
M: Maybe because he was curious where we think we fall in the triangle?
V: I consummately love you.
M: I consummately love you too.

18 September 2007

Epyllionaires: They're Really Nice People

What Happened?
M: There's a heavy, awkward silence here about that.
V: We had a really big fight during Epyllionaires time and so we stopped doing Epyllionaires until we worked some things out.
M: Except that we worked things out a really long time ago, but were worried that blogging would cause problems.
V: Finally, we decided that the family that blogs together, belongs together.
M:Do the Duggars blog?
V: You tell me. You're the vicar of Duggar.
M: I don't think they have a computer, actually. Although they have a website. I think Daddy Duggar leaves the house to do his dirty internet business.
V: Man, can you imagine growing up fetishizing the internet because you don't have it at home but you know it exists and everybody's doing it? Shit. That's like way worse than drugs.
M: Or sex. Because at least with sex you've got some instinctual "tinglings" that give you a vague notion of what it feels like.
V: Dood. Duggars + Sexual Tinglings = Next Question.


What have you been doing since 16 July?
M: I had a slow August. I watched a lot of tv-links. Four seasons of "Cold Case" and a shit ton documentaries.
V: I feel like you could have done a Twelve Days of Christmas thing there. Like, 4 seasons Cold Case, 3 dwarf families, 2 Carnivales, and a shit ton of doc-u-ment-a-rare-ies. Documentaries now has twelve syllables.
M: We went to Providence. And we bought a wireless router. So now we can post from the bedroom/cold room.
V: Except when we had the luxury of existing in cold space and web space we were like, "Fuck doing shit! Let's watch crazy British documentaries about Aleister Crowley and . . . what's the word when people come back and do other things? Whatever, you know, shit like that. We were like, fuck doing shit anyway."
M: Punctuating that sentence was really difficult.
V: I'm sure it was horrible. That's why you type, though. If I typed, there would be no punctuation. Maybe a period thrown in randomly. And forget about capitols. My life and my speech is what we like to call a run-on-sentence and it's going to run on down to crazy town without the fences of comas you know, and exclamation points and stuff.
M: We thought the hamster died.
V: He was hot as balls!
M: He didn't die, he just had really enlarged testicles that he liked to air out by laying on his back like he was dead.
V: The hamster is like Swamp Thing or something.
M: Swamp Thing?
V: You know, like, he's all one with his environment and can't die and stuff and he's got really big nuts and that's kind of a good thing. If Mercutio ever met up with a lady hamster, hell hath no fury man.
M: . . .
V: Is that all we've done with July? It's like September 90th already.
M: I went to Erie with the folks, you started classes and made paintings.
V: That's right, Brian's car died.
M: I helped the Jahje prime her studio and Nick/Caleb/Toby/Miles moved into a new house.
V: You know, you always try to cram all that crap into the end of summer.
M: Ooooh!!! I remember something kick ass we did! We rode a wooden roller coaster in torrential rain and thunder and lightening! Not many people can say they've done that!
V: Yeah!!! And we saw Kevin Smith talk for fucking, like half a day. It was nuts. What a great summer.

What can we expect from The Epyllionaires in the future?
V: Let's say - should we say once a week?
M: No. Because that somehow implies to me that I'm only going to get to see you once a week. Fucking grad school.
V: Well, you see me every day but we may not have time to blog every day because it takes time, time that I could actually be rubbing your back or something instead of you typing.
M: There has to be a happy medium between once a week and every day.
V: Should we say every other day blogging, not on Saturdays that I go to New York?
M: I don't think we can make a set schedule.
V: No, nothing is fucking set. How about M-F? We know a few of those. They're really nice people.
M: . . .
V: Let's change our blog name to "Epyllionaires: M-F: They're Really Nice People but Secretly Just Epyllionaires."
M: But the M-F would be lying on all levels because you learn about Nazi art history on Monday nights.
V: Yeah, but, T-S doesn't have the same ring and maybe it can be for like when people read it and not when it's posted.
M: People can't read our blog on Saturdays and Sundays? Blogs have no Blue Laws.
V: How about "Shop Hours May Vary" or "By Appointment?"
M: Epyllionaires: They're Really Nice People: By Appointment