A LIFE

Little cartoons for big people

I've been very busy making cartoons.

http://www.youtube.com/user/allenmez

Enjoy-A

The Road

I really hated being on the road. Having a "job" that required visiting cities all over the world was wasted on me. Having an insanely fast metabolism is also an injustice in that it allows me to eat everything and anything in sight yet I couldn’t care less about food. I would often start the habitual bitching a day or two before having to hit the road.

ME: Ughh…I have to be in Barcelona tomorrow.

YOU: And this is horrible, why?

ME: ‘Cause it’ll be a nightmare trying to find a nice quiet place to sit and have a meal. I’ll have to walk all over the place peeking inside smoke filled taverns packed with rotten toothed old men. If I do find a place I’m reduced to infancy looking at the menu and trying to order.

YOU: Won’t you be meeting up with musicians and local jazz lovers that’ll take you out for multi-course meals in amazing restaurants where you’ll sit for hours drinking wine and gorging on the finest native epicurean delights?


ME: Exactly! Food is just fuel as far as I’m concerned. Who the hell wants to sit around at a gas station. I want to fill up and then move on.

YOU: What about all the unique cultural aspects, like say…the architecture?

ME: It’s not like I’m playing at the foot of the Pyramids. It’s an urban metropolis. That means stores and hoards of people shopping in the stores and big signs everywhere advertising all the shit in the stores. It’s the exact same shit you find in any town in America except it's harder to tune out because it is just slightly different enough to fool you for a split second that their crap might be of a nobler quality than your crap. This momentary deception is incredibly exhausting.

YOU: You are a complete idiot. (Delivered with a look of disgust and contempt).

Tip 47

Although this is kind of a weird theme for a blog, this post is great, full of insight, feeling and original observations. Enjoy.

http://lastnightoner.typepad.com/my_weblog/2008/03/index.html

Not Good...

Every once in a while a certain type of emotional blues creates the perfect head space to organize and or clean. The other day I decided to take the morbid focus off myself by completely cleaning my car inside and out.

Still relatively new to car culture, I don't give a shit about this silver pod that gets me to and from work. The problem was I suddenly realized I was driving a 2002 gas powered dumpster.

At my local car wash, I pull into the vacuum area that in the past I had relegated to people with way too much free time and proceed to yank everything but the seats out onto the pavement.

I'm in the zone now, down on my hands and knees on the ground, vacuuming the floor mats. Suddenly, breaking my concentration is a pigeon bravely eating some saltine crumbs inches in front of the mat. I'm eye to eye with this weird little creature. I move myself a bit towards it and it doesn't move except to glance up at me through these milky white eyes. Finally I yell---GET OUT OF HERE, and lift my arm to scare it off. The next thing I know the fucking bird is stuck to the end of the vacuum that I'm holding.

I quickly start shaking the shit out of the vacuum but it won't come loose. As you probably know there is no OFF switch on these things.

The bird is flapping its wings like crazy. Its making this horrible sound that is part high pitched scream and part out of shape wheezing. Finally with two hands on the nozzle I lift it over my head and with all my might I swing it down to the ground. It comes loose with a thud and just lies there. Fuck.

As feathers and bird dirt drift slowly to the ground I quickly glance around to see if anyone has witnessed this nightmare. I'm cool.

Actually, I'm not. I still feel totally fucked up when I think about it.

SEX IN THE JUNGLE

I once lived in Time Square, NYC. This was right before it became a huge Disney logo. Back then it was fertile and teaming with all kinds of subculture. There were numerous porn theatres and strip clubs and little diners with one six foot long counter and two greasy short order cooks. Coffee came in one size and one flavor: COFFEE.

There was loud laughter and menace and every raw emotion in between. The Concrete Jungle was not metaphor.

I noticed that many young Latino men had a large lump in their back pockets. Slightly smaller than a tennis ball it was a rather jarring element to their silhouette.

Imagine your favorite Animal Planet or The Discovery Channel narrator voice when you read this next paragraph.

In their back pockets they carry a fresh lime. When these virile young men are in bed with a woman they squirt lime juice on her genitals. If she recoils in any kind of pain they know she has open sores or an infection.

Remember: this was a decade before any public awareness of STD's and the birth of AIDS but I'm guessing this is VERY old knowledge.

My first reaction to this was----Damn. Fucking animals. My immediate second reaction was----Wait, these motherfuckers are smart...law of the jungle smart.

Oh...don't give me any shit about rubbers here. This was pre AIDS and I'm talking about consenting, extremely sensual adults that have an animalistic sexual attraction. The sensualist female knows her safe time of the month and the sensualist male no more wants to wear a rubber than Yo Yo Ma would wear mittens playing the cello.

Meanwhile, forty blocks downtown, some cracker with glasses and a briefcase is banging his secretary or picking up a hooker and then taking some serious jungle cooties back to his wife in Connecticut. Stupid civilized asshole is not going to make it in the jungle.

Let's see your iphones do that motherfuckers.

YAWN

Things to do when you're bored.

Twice a month, write a letter to Steven Hawking asking him if he could please explain, in the simplest terms, G-string Theory.

On Fridays, ask your co-workers ---How was your weekend?

In a fancy car dealership, walk up to the hottest chick that works there.Then say----What do you charge for a Hummer?

Whenever a delivery guy knocks on your door, bark like a dog as loud as you can. Then scream-----SHUT THE FUCK UP. Finally, answer the door wearing a blood stained pair of sweatpants and a tool belt.

Walk into a toy store and ask loudly----Where are the Erection Sets? I need an ERECTION set. Get extremely impertinent and righteous at the ensuing confusion or embarrassment.

At work, scream suddenly at your nearest co-worker ----WHAT IS IT WITH ALL THE MOUSE CLICKING? ALL YOU DO IS CLICK,CLICK,CLICK OVER AND OVER. IT"S DRIVING ME FUCKING INSANE!!!