Jogging With a Spoon - 9
featuring The Weekly Zombie Report
Shit, kids. When I was told we were taking the holidays off, I thought just that. Little did I know that “we” means “not updating the site, but you still send your shit in”.
So, there is a gap in Spoons. Deal with it, fuckers. Here’s some stuff that went down in Carman Land during the break:
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Early December I went to a piano recital with The Lady®™. Apparently this Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man decided he could play Mozart, and like Grace, The Lady has a crush on Amadeus. Anyway, this thing was boring. But then again, I didn’t expect to be watching The Magic Flute.
I had been up since 5am, and the thing started at 7:30pm. Usually, I have already taken my last shit, showered and shaved for the night, but whatever. I have some class, so I will go. Besides, I had been planning this for a few weeks. And I wanted to go. So there.
When we arrive, I am in a sea of old people. It was like I was in that movie Cocoon, and I kept expecting Wilford Brimley to sit down next to me. Instead, it was some invalid old woman in a wheel chair. I felt that she was draining my life force, and growing stronger with every passing minute. I tried brushing it off, but, my God, did I want a cancer stick. Old people are youth vampires. That is why they pinch the cheeks of little children; to feed on their energy.
Anyway, the Marshmallow Man opened the night with Sonata No.8, and no sooner than the first note was hit, I hear snoring from almost all directions. I look around and all the old men are asleep! Goddamn, I think to myself, do people have no fucking respect? Jesus fucking lord, if you know you are going to go to sleep, just don’t fucking go, OK? I already knew it was going to be boring, it was just some fat dude playing the piano after all, but it gave me ample time to think on things. Some of which you will see in the future.
The second piece was Sonata 15 - not my favorite, but whatever. The tickets were free so I am not complaining. It is around the second movement when the old person sitting next to me starts to moan loudly and drool. She leaves and some kid sits down next to me. I wanted to ask him what that crap was on his face, but The Lady had made me promise that no scenes would be made, so I held my tongue. The kid looked like a leper, though, and I silently waited for him to reanimate.
Intermission happens, and I start to see cigs dancing around my head like Oompa Loompas chanting: “You want a cigarette! You want a cigarette!” I am resisting the urge to go smoke one, and I succeed. I bat the evil little pixies away and get strange looks. Fuck it, I say.
After intermission, the old puffster starts sonata 14, and the snoring is fucking loud by now. I thought a truck was jack knifing somewhere. Some old bat slaps her husband, and they leave. By now I am starting to yawn. He finishes the night with sonata 17, and I say thank God. I am fucking tired, and that night I sleep like a rock.
One thing I did notice, was that college kids kept showing up when old people would get up and leave. I think that these were NOT college kids, but the old people turned young. They were milking my fucking life force! GODDAMNIT, no wonder I slept like a rock, I needed to regain my strength.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I watched the remake of The Omen. Let me tell you something; it fucking sucks balls. The only redeeming factors were the zoo scene, Liev Schreiber and David Thewlis. I think they’re good actors. It lacked the psychological horror of the original, and everyone else was over acting - especially Mia Farrow and Julia Stiles. Their performances alone brought down everyone elses’. That’s something I will never understand; how bad actors still get work. Julia Stiles is not talented at all. She danced in one movie, and now she gets work in films that call for dramatic acting.
And Mia Farrow… what the fuck did she ever do besides adopt all the children in Cambodia and divorce Woody Allen? I hate Woody Allen; also a talent-less hack. I will never get that, either: How faux intellectuals swing from his fucking ball sack, like he was some visionary like David Lynch or Todd Browning. Fucking little asshole.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I didn’t want this on the main page, because it is too personal... kinda.... in short, it really happened... anyway, here is a x-mas present for my favorite e-kliq!
The Ego Boost
My lady and I went to my company's x-mas party, and EVERYONE was drunk, except for the two of us and maybe a few others. Turned out my boss and I were wearing the same outfit, and he pointed it out in his slurred way. I reply "I have committed the greatest fashion faux pas!" and it flies right over his head. I say fuck it and start to eat the free appetizers.
While eating, my old crew chief comes up and starts cracking fat jokes on most of the folks around us. Fair enough. I know he is drunk too, but not too bad... then we sit down for dinner, and my boss starts calling out the president of the company. He says, "Guido, you broke my heart. I love you" and kisses him! Oh shit, I think, but everyone laughs
Then dinner comes, and all the women are shooting daggers at my Lady. I don't sense this, but she assures me it is a woman thing. Fair enough. I am under the impression that all women hate each other anyway. To them, life is one big beauty contest. My lady agrees and says that’s why she hates women.
After dinner, which was bland, overpriced Italian food (it was free, so I enjoyed it regardless) we leave and the lady tells me that I was the hottest guy in that room. I know she wasn’t just trying to flatter me, because I look like a cross between Geoff Tate and Christopher Walken. No, she would tell me if she thought a guy was good looking or not, and has.
On the way home, I start thinking on how hawt I am, and that’s why I am The Sex®™.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
My lady's septic system got clogged, and everytime we flushed the toilet, it would only flush a quarter of the way. So I go outside and take the top off the tank. Water and shit starts flowing all around. Nasty. We tell the land lord, and she sends some hick motherfucker over, along with the neighbor kid. This kid is 19 if he was a day. Anyway, they run a snake and pull out a piece of crap and the neighbor kid runs to get me out of the house to show me their findings. Hillbilly Jim says "She flushed a goddamn tampon, that’s what clogged it!" I only see some sad paper towels and one piece of string. I ask "What about the paper towels?" and this redneck cat goes nutso:
"LOOK! I JUST MADE 100$ BECAUSE YOUR GIRLFRIEND FLUSHED A FUCKING TAMPON!"
Now I am pissed, so I bull right back up (of course firmly aware that I have my razor knife close at hand).
"She has lived here two fucking years, and the toilet has never been clogged by a fucking tampon before. To me, it looks like paper towels flushed by fucknuts over there!" - and I point at the idiot kid. They huff and leave, and I am still pissed.
A few days later, the lady finds a conveniently placed police report about the landlady’s kid being in a knife fight. She shows me this, and I laugh my ass off. The kid’s brother, the lady’s ex boyfriend, stabbed some dude in the back at a bar a few years ago, after the kid started a fight and got his ass kicked in the process.
I tell the lady "It takes a real tough guy to stab someone in the back," and then I go on a tirade about the things I have done. "Motherfucker, I have had a gun put to my head more than once, been jumped, I have been shot at, had too many death threats to count, watched people cut themselves for no other reason than to watch themselves bleed, and God knows what else. If this little shit thinks I am afraid of some country bumpkin, he has another thing coming!"
I have been thinking, and finally decided that I will do something I read about once: put one end of a belt between your teeth, pull out your knife, offer the other end of the belt to your opponent, and then go to work on each other. The person who refuses the end of the belt, or drops it first, is a coward. I will cut his fucking heart out if he fucks with my lady... just sayin.
Maybe I am insane, but I'm not crazy.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I saw GWAR on December 8th. I suggest that everyone on the Planet see GWAR and spread the word. Dinosaurs and the Devil in the same show! No one can beat that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dec. 23rd, I get to meet The Lady's grandparents for the first time. This is going to be nice. I have heard a lot of good things about both of them. We arrive about 9am and I see a Civil War veteran. This cat MUST be, because he remembered the Titanic sinking. Goddamn. I already hate Old People, but I am a somewhat opened minded guy so I will see this through like a gentleman grandson-in-law.
“Hey daya, Lady,” says the old man, his southern dialect thick. “Howsa trip?”
This guy was sitting in his chair made of what I assume was Redwood or Oak. It looked comfortable, though. He had a cane with a silver horse head on it. It looked like Onyx for the shaft. To me, he looked like a Concrete, but with only one eye.
The Lady introduces me, and then leaves me there to talk with The Old Man, whose name is Jeremiah (it should be noted, I NEVER use real names, DUH). Of course, to not make waves, I file that away in some polite compartment of my mind and immediately start to refer to him as Sir. From what I have been told, he was born and raised in Charleston and was one of those people that have always been old. Always. He arrived on the Mayflower.
“Whereya from boy?” Sir says. The Lady has told me that my own Southern Accent is thick, like I was born and raised here in the south. I never noticed it, but I think I have one of those rubber tongues that just pick up the dialect of where I am at, so I could hang with this guy. No problem.
“Outside Cleveland, sir”
“Clevelan’, eh? I got people up daya in N.C. Nice country.”
I am looking at his good eye, and I swear I can see that this man may be old, but his mind is as sharp as a stingray’s barb. I go to reply that I mean Ohio, but before I can, there is a ruckus from the kitchen
“SHOO YOU DARND CATS! GET OFF MY CAKE!!! SHOO!!!”
Me and Sir both turn our heads and look into the kitchen, and I see a church lady throwing a bunch of cats out the back door. I don’t mean tossing, I mean THROWING. Now I know where The Lady gets that from.
The Old Man shakes his head and spits on the ground. “I hate cats, nah, I tell ya, Nuttin but domestic rats, I say.”
By now, I’m starting to think of the old man as some sort of wise Cyclops. He doesn’t suffer from Old, he is just one of those guys that never let his extreme age bother him. We talk for a while about The Reconstruction (the time following the Civil War, for all of you who are not American, or perhaps just fucking retarded) and Maurice Bessinger’s BBQ sauce. He laughed when I said that horses were only good for glue. I felt at ease and that I could be myself around this guy.
The Lady and her Grandmother come out of the kitchen, we are introduced and she turns out to be a genuinely nice lady. She is a whimsical type of crazy. Maybe a free spirit, born just shy of 100 years too early. Of course, they bring cake, and I politely decline a piece. I remembered the cats.
“Do you want something to drink, Carman? Tea or Coke?” Grandma asks.
“I’ll have a pop, please,” I say. Right then, I get a silver horsehead to my mouth.
POW!
“FUCK!” I say, feeling my front teeth laying in bits and pieces on my tongue.
“YANKEE! CLEVELAND, OHIO! NOT NORTH CAROLINA!” It is the voice of God himself. He has come down from heaven to punish me for one of my many sins. The beating continues for what seemed like an eternity. I finally manage to grab the cane and then find out that this old man is MUCH stronger than what I thought. He shakes me off the end of his cane and starts after me again.
Grandma and The Lady are trying to pull the Lord of Destruction away from me. I say fuck it and bolt out the door, but lo and behold; Sir is right the hell behind me.
“Trick me, will ya! Pop you say! I’ll show ya what Pop can do, ya hear? No kin o mine is being courted by no nigga lovin YANK!”
Well, I said fuck it again and ran. Again. Faster, this time. The Lady drove there, she can pick me up down the road.
I got two new front teeth for Christmas. Oh, and the title of “Coward Yank Sonofabitch” from Sir.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It’s almost New Year's as of the time of writing this particular paragraph, and I can’t say much for 2006. Except that the FDA has approved cloned food. Now, this may cure world hunger and shit, but I don’t care. What I care about is Cloned People. The Lady and I are having a debate about this. I say that they would make fine eating because they would have all the nutrients the human body needs. She says that the body uses those nutrients, so it would be just like eating beef.
I would think that the unused vitamins would be in the stool and urine, hence the term Human Waste. Also, we could have perfectly ethical friendly Slave Labor as well. Maybe I have seen Blade Runner too many times, but I can’t think of any real reasons to clone a person besides for Soilent Green and doing dangerous shit that normal humans don’t want to do. Then again, we have Mexicans for that and having cloned slaves would put a drain on the black market economy. Well, there is a thread about this on our super cool (and super dead) bulletin board. Go there and talk about it!
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Weekly Zombie Report
Oh damn, I know the site has been on vacation for a few weeks, so I have had time to collect the going ons of the UnDead.
Over the last two weeks three identical murders have been reported around the Churchgate area in South Mumbai. In two out of the three murders, the victim was found with chest wounds. A Kingfisher beer can was also recovered on the scene of the crime. But so far the police have been unable to make any headway. In fact none of the bodies have even been identified so far.
"The dead bodies are all of the same age. Also all the victims seem to be vagabonds. So there's a pattern that's evolving here," said Arup Patnaik, JCP, Mumbai.
This is in India. I know India is a crowded country, so it would be easy for a Zombie to slip though the cracks. I’ll be keeping a close eye on this case.
KATHMANDU, Dec 30 - A mother and son were brutally murdered Friday night in Banke district.
According to the police, the deceased have been identified as Prema Kurmi, 50 and her 18 year old son Kallu Kurmi of Sahi village which lies some 4 kilometres south of Nepalgunj.
The duo was killed with a sharp instrument at around midnight, the police said. The body of the mother had been dragged to a nearby place whereas the younger Kurmi's body remained at the scene of crime. 
I don’t know what it is about that region, but I would suggest staying the hell away from it.
So far, in the Western world, The Zombie Threat seems to be somewhat contained. But a warning, from me to you, is to NOT get complacent and fat because of this. I have a feeling that 2007 is going to see some serious Zombie shit hitting the fan. And not just by the UnDead, either. My suggestions are to keep fit, practice proficiency in your weapons of choice, and use this time to re-stock on any supplies you may need for the coming Apocalypse.
Remember that YOU TOO have to stay on top of this type of shit.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Carman, out.
