Knavery, Trickery, Deceit

Damn it all.

I had a really funny post sketched in my head – and I say “sketched” because it was going to be just two pictures and twenty-four words – but I’m an idiot and although I took the pictures (twice!), I couldn’t seem to get them in the computer. So instead you’ll have to settle for a thousand words. Or one thousand and twelve, to be precise.

Okay, I suppose I’d best back up a bit.

See, the first time I came up here, to Maine, I forgot to bring the camera. Or didn’t so much “forget to bring it” as “didn’t see any reason I might want to have it around.” I was on hiatus from this blog at the time, I was licking wounds and cleaning house, and I didn’t see any need to document all that.

The last time I went to Massachusetts, though – which was a week ago – I threw the camera in my bag. I’d gotten back on the scribbly old horse a couple days before, and although I didn’t know what I planned to write about exactly, I did know that illustration comes in handy. For, you know, poop and spiders and knives and girlie screwdrivers, and other things that normal people might look at and shake their heads.

But I didn’t bring the cordy bit. The bit, you know, that makes the pictures go from the camera to the computer? It’s still attached to the old computer at the AssVac (which computer, by the way, somehow mysteriously caught a virus while I was up here and now wants to do nothing all day long but look at porn). Although the cordy bit is also moot, I realize now, because there’s also some sort of software or CDROM or something that I think I also need, and that I know I also didn’t bring along.

I didn’t remember any of that, though. Not at first. At first what I did was go ahead with my grand plans and take the picture and write the goddamn 24-word post. Which went like this:

You know what else you can do when you live alone?

{{picture}}

Take a bite out of the block of cheese and put it back.

Ha-ha! Right?

I’m such a dork.

Anyway, so yeah. I ate the cheese and took the picture and brought the camera up to plug it in and… nothing. Cuz I didn't have the, you-know, pieces.

Balls.

But that was a couple days ago. Today (whatever the hell day this is; they’re all starting to run together for me a little bit up here, I swear to god) I remembered that as of – oh, hell, some number of weeks ago,  I've no idea – I have a Blackberry! And one thing a Blackberry can do that my old phone couldn’t do, is pictures!

I know this, you see, because I’ve already accidentally photographed my dashboard and my desk, along with a few other things I just know some of you would shake your heads about. But I haven't on-purpose taken a picture of anything that I actually wanted to preserve...

So but anyway: ta-da! Now I had the blackberry, so I was all up in that  point-and-shoot-and-up-or-download-and-embarrass-yourself club, wasn't I?

Yeah. You’d think so.

I re-bit the cheese and I re-took the picture and I re-brought the dang thing up to plug it in, and I (not re-, but actually really) PLUGGED it in -- because I’d actually really REMEMBERED the phone’s cordy thing, even though I didn’t know what it was at the time and only threw it in my carry-on bag (which used to be Mom’s, and which is all I back-and-forth with these days) as a just-in-case-whatever-this-is-turns-out-to-be-important -- and then I realized that I didn’t have the freakin' software. Or the CDROM. Or whatever.

I saw it! I saw it in the box! When I was there! Right under the cordy thing! But when I was there I thought to myself: the phone is working fine; I don’t need any fancy-schmancy “applications” or whatever this pain-in-the-ass disc might want itself to be for. So I threw it out.

Yeah.

Yeah yeah yeah.

I threw it out.

Dumped cat litter over it. Put it in the barrel. That was a week ago. There've been two trash days since I threw it out. It’s gone.

See? And that, right there, is the reason I’m not so terribly daunted by the idea of downsizing myself from a three-bedroom house in the suburbs to a single sub-letted bedroom in Times Square.

I’ve just really never been that good with stuff.

I don’t need there to be stuff. I don’t want there to be stuff. And if there has to be stuff (which sometimes, I admit, there has to be), then I don’t want to see stuff.

I call myself Destructo for a reason. I break shit, I lose shit, I decide that I don’t need shit and I throw it the fuck away. I don’t do it on purpose, but I do.

I can probably get the camera-software-whatever-jazz on line, but you know.

Balls.

I didn’t even want to bite the stupid cheese. I just thought it’d be a friggin’ hoot. I did it twice, too, and I wasn’t hungry either time. Although now that I think about it, I didn’t actually need to take a second bite to take a second picture. Have I mentioned that I’ve had a couple beers?

Oh, but I said two pictures and some words, didn’t I?

Yeah.

I was also going to show you a picture of my ass.

Just to see if I could hear you shake your heads up here in Maine.

Not really! Well, yes, really. But it’s a close-up picture of my ass that I accidentally took with the Blackberry when I was trying to put it in my pocket. All you can see in it is the Levi’s tag. Which also isn’t true, because I’m wearing Calvins. See? You’re going to have to understand, going forward, that sometimes I stretch the truth a little bit. 

And sometimes I just plain old make shit up.





HEYY!!!
Edit!!!!
Photo!!!!
(Thanks Mo & Jenni!!!!)

Also: 
Ass!!