That stands for Swift Kick in the Balls. As in the several I’ve been getting from life lately.
Nothing bad, actually some good, not all kicks to the stones are bad. It’s just that they’re jarring. If you get kicked in the balls hard enough, you get lifted off of the ground and you don’t land in the same spot.
Sure it hurts. How could getting kicked in the balls not hurt? They’re your BALLS. But sometimes if you’re standing in the same place for a long enough time the only thing that’s going to make you move is an old fashioned SKITB.
Sorry I’ve been semi-absent as of late. Things have been piling up and writing seems to be the first thing to go, like a bra during the first chords of September Rain.
I always get excited during this time of the year. I abhor the loss of summer and the only way I can console myself, short of booze and floozies, is to sink myself up to my clicker wrist in fall television. Here’s what I’m getting geared up for:
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: I’m always surprised that people don’t know about this show. It is one of the two funniest shows on television. I won’t blather on for hours about how Dennis has perfect pecs, or Mac dances like he’s fighting or how Charlie can’t read. Just watch it. Now. Seriously, go to hulu.com and watch all of the episodes. For free. Stop reading. Go there. Now.
Sons of Anarchy: Watched the first two episodes of this. Sopranos on harleys. Seriously. Biker chicks too. Incredibly entertaining.
Fringe: This stars the guy who played Denethor in The Lord of the Rings movies, so I kind of have to watch it. First episode mentions ketamine and LSD as the secrets to telepathy. I fucking KNEW it. Sold.
Heroes: It was a little hokey last season, but fuck it man, any show where people can fly and shoot fireballs out of their hands? I’ll watch it. If I have to pretend to like Grey’s Anatomy to stay in a conversation long enough to get a girl’s pants off, I should be rewarded with a live action comic book.
Man that was awesome.
2,000 miles, five days and 700 pictures.
If any of you live within a few hours of the Pacific Northwest, go there, immediately. I do believe it is among the most beautiful regions on the planet. Towering mountains, thundering rivers, pristine lakes, rolling hills and the ocean, goddamn is it amazing.
I’ll get into it more tomorrow, but I just wanted to drop the following science:
Flying fucking sucks.
It sucks especially when you’re traveling to a destination to start a journey that isn’t about the destination but all about the journey. Flying is only about the destination, that is its sole purpose, its singular being. Point A to point B and how you can make those points closer together in time either through increased speed, mind numbing television or body numbing muscle relaxers.
You don’t see anything new on a flight, unless you somehow missed the cinematic masterpiece that is You Don’t Mess With The Zohan. You don’t meet anyone new… well maybe one person, and it’s usually their ass or sweaty crotch as it passes your face on the way to the bathroom. You don’t even have any new experiences, well you generally don’t want to have new experiences on planes as 95% of them are deadly since you’re forty thousand feet above the ground.
To have such an amazing experience bookended by such constraint is ironic, I think.