Saturday, April 30, 2005

Listen up, goatherds! Official Proclamation

Some of you may have noticed that my name has changed from merely "Kris" to "Blog Kris". You are right. There has been a change.

People, my good people. You are heinously mistaken if you confuse me with anyone else on the blogosphere. I have changed my name to help with any confusion you may have with that respect. The following is a list of names that I go by, followed by who gave me those names:

Kris, altered to Blog Kris (given at birth)
Bizwheesat'sassmiznit (earned that by defeating blogger)
King Nasty (given to me by Chevalier for my tossed salad haikus)
Mr. Demento (given to me by g.d. because she escaped from the looney bin-lock your doors!)
Asshole (given to me by multiple ex-girlfriends)

The following is a VERY incomplete list of names that I DO NOT go by. I am not:

your spritual leader, at least not yet
Blog Allah
the guy from "Ask the Pope"
Kristi
Anybody else in the blogosphere that is not listed in the former list

If this concept is too much to wrap your tiny little minds around, please head on over to Heightened Thoughts where you're guaranteed to find less thought provoking material.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Love poem #3

I love how you keep me in line.
the way you ensure I stay on the path.
I love how you make sure that I'm safe,
and that I am protected
on all sides.

I love how you speak to me.
You keep me in my boundaries.
I love how you allow me to have friends of my own kind
never interfering, or
showing envy.

I love how you dote on me.
You shear my wool coat before you take me out.
I love how proud of me you are
to hump me in front of the Americans.
I love you, Goatherd. Baa baa-aa!

UPDATE: For more fun with sheep, visit Heightened Thoughts. Voyeurs only!

August 15, 2005
UPDATE #2:
A lot of people have been finding this post through search variants of "love poem." I should let all of these people know that this poem is in jest. It refers to this post. I guess even in Iraq, love has no boundaries.

Enter at your own risk!

The following is straight from my mind to the blog, as promised. Remember, you asked for it.

I love this place. It's like a place, I guess. Well, not so much. It's more like a bulletin board.
I love this bulletin board. I love all of you people that come and read it. Well I guess you just sit at your house or wherever and read it.

I would post more often, but I am generally very busy reading what you all have posted on your bulletin boards. I guess I should refer to it as a virtual bulletin board.

The word blog sounds like the sound of a bubble that slowly bursts out of hot slimy mud.

Okay sorry folks. This is boring the shit out of me, even. You wouldn't know that I am quite effective with the ladies by that post. I'll be back with another post in a little bit, but that idea is completely scratched off of the list.

If you liked that post, however, and would like to be bored even further, head over to Heightened Thoughts. God knows that guy needs some readers. By the time you wake back up, I'll have a new post up.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Rather salty...

Today I learned an important lesson. Writing haikus about tossing the salad is fun. Digitalicat is hosting a contest at his blog for the best tossed salad haiku. EVERYONE should enter this contest, because even if you don't win, it's fun. Haven't you been paying attention?

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Nashin All Potree Munt

In honor of National Poetry month, I will repost something that I wrote for The Mysterious Lubba D, shortly after being granted the title of "Lubba." She earned "Mysterious" and "D" a few months after receiveing her title. She doesn't know how she got the title or what it means and this was a source of befuddlement for her when the poem was written. Since then, she has simply accepted it. Her real name is Dusti. Without further ado:

An Ode to My Sister

Lubba Lubba Lubba Lubba Lubba Dusti Dubba.
Lubba Dubba Dusti Dubba Lubba Lubba Lubba
Dubba Dubba Dubba Dubba Dubba Dusti Lubba
Dubba Lubba Dusti Lubba Dubba Dubba Dubba

Dusti Dusti Dusti Dusti Dusti Lubba Dubba
Dusti Dubba Lubba Dubba Dusti Dusti Dusti
Dubba Dubba Dubba Dubba Dubba Lubba Dusti
Dubba Dusti Lubba Dusti Dubba Dubba Dubba

Lubba Lubba Lubba Lubba Lubba Dubba Dusti
Lubba Dusti Dubba Dusti Lubba Lubba Lubba
Dusti Dusti Dusti Dusti Dusti Dubba Lubba
Dusti Lubba Dubba Lubba Dusti Dusti Dusti

-Kris 2/8/05


My favorite thing about this poem is that you can read it in any direction.

HEY SEXY::Wolf Whistle::YEAH, BABY!

Please bear with me while this blog is getting remodeled. Sure the construction workers I hired from "Heightened Jesus, Inc." are a bit rowdy, but I've been assured by a shady individual known as MPH that they're the best that money can buy.

I am not happy with the distance between the links up top and the blog content, and I have to move all of those pictures off of photobucket and onto a better image hosting site where they won't get all pixelated.

In the meantime, my apologies for obscenities.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Yoghurt Like Whoa.

My favorite candy, hands down, is Andes mints. I have been in love with these forevah. (thanks, SJ!) Did you know that they are made by the Tootsie Roll Industries? Who would know that? Me, because I love them. Anyway, I know that I am behind the times, YEARS perhaps, but today I found out that there are Cherry Jubilee Thins. I also had them for the first time today. I also have found out that there are Toffee Crunch Thins, but I haven’t had the opportunity to try them yet. I’ve already known of and cherished many, many, many Crème De Menthe and Mint Parfait Thins. Kudos, Tootsie Roll Industries R&D!!!! Even if these flavors have been out for years and you’re disgruntled and unemployed, I salute you!

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Every morning, at 6:00 am (10:00 pm EST/7:00 pm PST) I go to breakfast at a specific Dining FACility (DFAC). I always get the same thing: scrambled eggs (real eggs, not army powder eggs), breakfast casserole (potates, sausage, and eggs, absolutely SMOTHERED in cheese), garlic potatoes (to ensure that brushing my teeth after I wake up has absolutely no lasting effect on my breath), a very tiny breakfast burrito, and an equally tiny up of flavored “yoghurt”. This is all I eat during the day and “breakfast” lasts for about six hours, as I usually finish up by noon. The problem is that I generally wolf each item down and wait a while before eating something else. Today I had a wonderful experience that may change all that.

I’ve noticed that the yoghurt is on par with what we’re used to in the States. I was absolutely wrong about that, it turns out. The “yoghurt” is FAR superior to any yogurt that we have in the states. Yoplait, Dannon, etc. could stand to learn something from this company: the Kuwaiti Danish Dairy Company (KDDC).

I cannot resist trying “foreign” foods. I think it’s integral to experiencing the culture of another nation, and it usually winds up revealing some rather tasty results. When stationed in Korea, I didn’t eat any American food unless I absolutely HAD to for the entire year. I even sought out kegogi while I was there, but unfortunately I never found any. So of course I had to try the yoghurt in the funny looking cup covered in Arabic. It wasn’t too different from American yogurt, and I found myself getting a cup every morning. At first I just noticed that the fruit didn’t fall apart, unlike American yogurts that I’ve had in the past. Since I eat at work, I didn’t really pay much attention to the taste, instead wolfing it down as soon as I opened it like everything else.

The DFAC generally puts out two different flavors every morning, usually making sure at least one of the flavors is different from the day before. At first, there were just your regular yogurt flavors, and normally I grabbed peach, strawberry or cherry. Then the DFAC started putting out the yoghurt flavors. The first one was pineapple (which might be a yogurt flavor, but not like this), but I didn’t care for it too much. Then came kiwi, which was good, but I don’t think kiwis were meant for yog(h)urt. All this time, I just wolfed it down, not paying attention to the taste. Then I experienced (you’ll have to forgive me for not knowing the name of this flavor, I will just describe it) multi-berry yoghurt. I opened the cup and the first thing I saw was an entire blackberry covered in yoghurt. This was no cheap yoghurt. There were also full raspberries, blueberries, and strawberry slices in this cup. I stopped to actually experience the yoghurt that morning and was pleased to find that KDDC yoghurt easily outdistanced its American cousins. Since then I have been paying attention to this yoghurt. It demands it.

This morning when I went to the yoghurt bin, I was hoping to see my muti-berry friend waiting for me. It has been a few days since I’ve seen any, but I was saddened to find that it was not there. Instead, I grabbed what I thought was peach. Imagine my surprise when I found out that it was Peach Melba (the actual flavor name for this one). A new flavor! And how! Peach Melba Fruit Yoghurt consists of chopped peaches, whole raspberries and the yoghurt is flavored accordingly. Oh how in love with this I am. The yoghurt itself has a rougher texture than what we’re used to in the US, but what is lost in texture is MORE than made up for in taste, not to mention the superior taste and texture of the fruit itself. For all of you yog(h)urt lovers out there, this is a must have.

Who would have thought that I’d be raving about mints and yog(h)urt in Iraq?

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Weird Ass Dream

So last night, I had this crazy dream. I am picking up in the middle because all I remember before this was a well-to-do white two story house with a spiral staircase that I climbed down and went outside.

I was back in the army in some sort of special unit. I don’t know what our job was, but Larry was in charge of our squad. We were on the edge of some large body of water that had no beach. Instead grass ran down to the water. There was some sort of pier, equally wide as it was long, surrounded by walls that jutted out away from the shore. I left the house and met up with Larry there, as well as some other people I’ve never seen and had no real significance, other than that they were in my squad. It was really late, but the sun was up and it looked like it was closer to noon. Larry told us to get some sleep because we’d be getting up at 10:00 am to attend the awards ceremony.

We laid out our cots to float in the water next to the wall at the edge of the pier, and tried to sleep. I couldn’t figure out why the cots were floating or what we’d do if a large wave came by. This and the fact that my feet were hanging off the edge of the cot and getting wet was keeping me awake. I decided to swim instead and slipped off the foot of my cot into the water. I realized that I had my blue Nu-Buc suede Pumas (I had a pair in high school) on, and so I took them off. Suddenly the pier extended around the walls and I placed my shoes, removing the in-soles to dry in the 4 am sun. As I turned around to swim, hundreds of tourists appeared on the shore, in the water, and on the pier. I swam around a bit and returned to find that my cot was stolen, my shoes and in-soles were stolen and instead someone had left me one red shoe that was the same as my blue pair, and an in-sole for that shoe.

Larry looked at me and told me that it was time to head to the awards ceremony.

Before the peanut gallery attacks, I’d just like to mention that it is pretty freaky that other bloggers are beginning to appear in my dreams. I think it was Larry in charge of the squad because I respect his writing ability and know what his face looks like. There are others of you that fit into that category as well, but I haven’t been reading your blogs as long as I have been reading his, and it's not like it was a conscious decision to dream about him.

Ok peanut gallery, all yours.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

I have seen the darkness.

Six elephants escaped from a circus in Seoul today. One ran down an alleyway and into a courtyard garden, two decided to just play in traffic, and the remaining three were hungry and stopped in at a local restaurant, breaking through the windows to enter. It’s not often that you look up from your bowl of noodles and see three fully clothed elephants busting in and running past you in the diner. I really wish I had been there. No wonder they were upset, look at those threads.


Click on the pictures to visit Steph's Stuff.


Does anyone else find it funny that the day Steph leaves for the orient, six elephants escape and go on a rampage before being recaptured?

Ladies and gentlemen, we may have met Blog Satan. Six elephants escaped, six elephants rampaged, and six elephants were recaptured. Six, six, six, the mark of the beast. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I find myself unsurprised that it is Steph. She’s been laying low, casually making light-hearted comments, welcoming everyone to the fold. If she’s not Blog Satan, she’s certainly in league with Elton John. Plus she’s a woman, and we all know that they’re evil to begin with. Well, except my girlfriend and SJ. She did have me fooled, though. I would have pegged Gigsy as Satan, honestly.

If anything this just proves my theory that the world is in a downward spiral and that we are all doomed. The Pope was a member of the Hitler Youth, elephant antics in Seoul, and bloggers offering up their souls. It all points to the same thing, the apocalypse. The beast walks amongst us, people, and she is called, “Steph.”

Monday, April 18, 2005

Twenty-seven years in the making.

In retort to my sister’s post, here, which was in retort to my last, I would like to point out that I was merely two years old. My sister was seven years old. She shoved play doh up my nose. For those of you that are married, have a significant other, or are masochistic enough to try it on yourselves, go ahead and shove some play-doh up your respective partner’s/self’s nose into the nasal cavity and watch the reaction that ensues.

Your spouses/significant others will probably fight back and it may be difficult for you to do this. It was not difficult for my sister because I was two years old! She claims to have done this in kindness, yet she shows no remorse for my suffering. She is the worst sort of Play-Doh evil.

Mysterious Lubba D, you know that it’s coming and more importantly, you know WHAT is coming. No one can save you. It is inevitable. An eye for an eye, a nasal cavity for a nasal cavity. The most delicious part of it is that you won’t know WHO it is coming from. Enlist my girlfriend against me? Lubba dubba dee. You should have known by now that there is no end to the creativity of my mischief. You should have known not to yank the demon’s tail. You should have known better. Oh yes, it's on.

A Weapon of Mass Disgusting.

The Mysterious Lubba D, my mother tells me, was a very well behaved child. I was too, but I got into a lot more… adventures, shall we say? than she did. She was not an angel, however. Sometimes, in fact, she was downright pure unadulterated EVIL. I’ll get to that later.

One of the mischievous things that she did was grout the floor with Play-Doh. This was not a one time thing. She did this EVERY SINGLE TIME she was got her hands on it. Apparently, “modeling compound” means nothing to a child. She was a grout fiend. Finally, my mother had enough and banned the substance from my house. But not before The Mysterious Lubba D got the scent.

At some point in my childhood, which began after the notorious groutings of the early 70’s, I was given an innocent looking yellow canister with a white lid. Little did I know of the EVIL that lay within. Like a dog that has been fed meat, my sister caught a whiff when I pulled off the lid and soon she began to circle. By this time she was a little older and knew that there would be no chance to grout. I don’t remember what I was doing with the white Play-Doh; I’m sure it wasn’t too complex. Mysterious Lubba D, on the other hand, was scheming. There is no way she could pass up the opportunity for Doh-mischief - mischief for which I would ultimately pay the price.

The Mysterious Lubba D has always loved the smell of Play-Doh. To this day, she will tell you that it is one of her favorite smells. In a moment that she claims was in kindness (I have my doubts about that), she thought that it would be a good idea to share the smell with me. She rolled some into a small ball, put it on the tip of her finger and said “This smells good. Smell it!”

Bad idea. “Ok,” I said.

I remember it all in slow motion. Her head rocked back, a glint in her eye, and she began to laugh, a low-pitched-wicked-now-I-have-your-soul kind of laugh, while her hand began it’s ascent towards my nose. As her hand neared my nostril I began to experience the salty, unnatural stench that would haunt me until the end of my days, but she didn’t stop. Soon the malevolent substance, followed by the first phalange of her index finger, was in my nose and I realized too late that my nose was under siege, a full-fledged olfactory assault. She wasn’t satisfied with the fact that it was in my nose, she was going for something more permanent. She pushed on, determined, and shoved that little ball of evil deep into my nasal cavity.

The nasal cavity is a very sensitive part of the human body. It does not react well to the introduction of foreign substances. Most substances don’t even make it past the back of the nostril, where the hairs in your nose catch, or at least sense the substance and elicit a violent response known as a sneeze. A sneeze can leave your body in speeds of 90-100 miles per hour, possibly faster. That’s just from the back of the nostril. Now, imagine if you will, the sheer violence of your body attempting to force something from your nasal cavity. The introduction of a ball of white Play-Doh to my nasal cavity elicited a VERY violent response indeed. My entire body convulsed in an attempt to rid itself of the venomous odor and I vomited everywhere.

Scientists and even The Hot Librarian agree that the sense of smell is most strongly tied to memory. Ladies and Gentlemen, THERE IS NO DOUBT to the truth of that statement. To this day, I will tell you that it is one of the worst odors I’ve ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

Today I received a package from my girlfriend. It is an Easter package that kicks ass. The package was delayed. Inside of this package, she put lots of great things, but there is one thing in particular that I would like to talk about. There was a little yellow canister, with a white lid, and a note that says “Your sister’s suggestion (?)”

This time, The Mysterious Lubba D has gone too far. She has attempted to turn my girlfriend into a Play-Doh terrorist. In this day and age, with the Global War on Terrorism in full swing, I will not let this injustice go unanswered. The Mysterious Lubba D has unwittingly sent me the weapon of her own demise. Mark my words, devil! Your day is coming, and my retribution will be swift!

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Pre-emptive Strike

Lately I've been having a bit of trouble blogging. When I'm in the middle of my creative genius, I have to deal with an unreliable internet connection at best, a constant barrage of email informing me of things like unit basketball teams that I really don't care about but must sort through in the event a customer emails me, and a minimum of one person jabbering in my ear in addition to any customers that come in. Sometimes, it's two people jabbering at me. Don't get me wrong, considering the circumstances, I've been doing a damn fine job. In an effort to give you more of what you're funking for (+10 points if you can name the song that's from), this blog is about to take a sharp turn downwards. I am going to blog what comes into my head as it spontaneously appears. Blame MPH, he asked for it. And they say drugs are a bad thing. Read it at your own risk.

And now, Bootsie Collins!



Click on the picture to visit Pops' blog, who inspired me to post Bootsie's picture.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

I Love Blogger! /sarcasm


You see I was working on the template today, and Blogger decided to play with my emotions. I had to rebuild the entire thing. I managed to break the blog in exactly the same way as I did before, but this time I knew how to fix it without losing the posts. This means that I can play as much as I like without worrying about it. Yay!

This is just another example of why I am the Bizwheesat'sassmiznit Haderach.

Monday, April 11, 2005

No Way.

Okay, I've come to my own personal verdict that Alli is whack. She doesn't even get "ed." I've had a link to her other blog for some time now and read it regularly. It is a very entertaining blog, but she finally showed her true colors. If you read this and this, I think you'll agree that she's a little mental and a fake. I don't mean this as a personal attack so much as a calling out. I'd also like to point out "No Dude, Seriously". This is a blog devoted entirely to lying, and it was created by her and a few of her friends (one of which commented here as her support). As a victim of abuse, I find it HIGHLY OFFENSIVE to claim to have experienced something like that when you have not. You've cheapened the horrors that real people lived through. Your links will be removed from my site and I will ask my sister to do the same. I really believe NONE of what she's saying at 63 Days.

In happier news, I'd like to point you all to a lighthearted debate that's happening at Alex's blog. She is awesome.

Also The Hot Librarian has linked me. I don't know if she's hot or if she's even female, but her weblog sure is funny.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Alli

Today I am going to do something that I normally wouldn't consider. I am offering up a public apology to Alli. This is a special case, though.

Alli, I am sorry that what I said hurt your feelings, as that surely was not my intent. I didn't even think that you'd see my post.

Having said that, I am still holding on to my skepticism. I don't feel that I said anything wrong in my post yesterday and still stand by it. Furthermore, this only makes me more curious to find out what those few of you that take the time out of your wonderful day to read my blog think of it. Do you agree or am I off-base?

I just don't know...

Go read 63 Days before you read this post. I've been reading it since Alli started writing it, and I've been trying to decide whether or not she's really a survivor of this or if she just has a vivid imagination and is giving a fictional account. She says that she has been approached by an agent since starting the blog to put it into book form. I read her forum today and this entry is causing me to think it was a fake. Here are the red flags that have me doubting the validity of Alli's ordeal:


  • No articles can be found that corroborate the account she gave of "Stephanie." It's more like Stephanie is based off of Kristen, but Alli says she never found out what happened to Stephanie, whereas it's well-known that Kristen died.


  • She seems almost cheerful about it in her responses to questions asked by readers.


  • Her account seems like it is given more from an observer's than a participant's point of view.


  • She says she used sand in her shoes to remove the skin from her feet. I am not sure if that's possible in that short amount of time, but giving her the benefit of the doubt, it seems awfully strange that she was able to walk 4 days later.


  • I'm not the only person that questions it, it sounds a little hokey.


  • I'm not saying that she's lying, just that I find it hard to believe. I won't make any accusations whatsoever because the bottom line is that I don't know. What I will say is this: If it's fiction, say it's fiction, especially if it's going to be in the public eye and for profit. It is demeaning to those who did survive it for you to claim to have done so, if you haven't. It makes their stories less believable. That is a horrible way to treat someone.

    Am I off-base or does this story seem a little fishy to everyone else too?
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    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.