Gratuitous Use of the Phrase 'Chopped Up Fish Parts'
I'm mentioning this now because, wouldn't you know it, that very same drum kit is currently for sale on eBay! This is good news, even though I don't have $2000 and I bought a new drum set over the summer. Let me go ahead and say it: everyone out there reading this should pool their money and buy this drum kit for good ol' me. Make it an early birthday present. Or a late birthday present. Either way. Just make it a present. If you don't do this, you are SELFISH. It's true.
Speaking of Portland, and of drumming, something that I never got around to mentioning about that trip was this: at one point, we went to an aquarium that featured seals in a tank. For a mere dollar, you could purchase chopped up fish parts and feed the seals (a dollar for chopped up fish parts?!--that's a deal). As there were several seals in the tank, once they realized you were feeding them chopped up fish parts they would compete for your attention (and your chopped up fish parts); one of the main ways they would do this would be to float on their backs and smack their big fat seal stomachs with their flippers. It made a sort of "frap"-like noise. Frap, Frap, Frap. It was incredibly cute, incredibly loud, and slightly rhythmic (kind of like my drumming, minus the cuteness and/or any resemblance to rhythm whatsoever). The point is, I think this should become the universal way in which people ask each other for things (especially chopped up fish parts). If you want something, just pull your shirt up (or your dashiki, if you're rocking it Soul Train style) and start wailing on your own stomach until you get it. I'll go first: I'm hitting my stomach in reference to the previously-mentioned drum set as we speak. Not literally, though--it's a mental frapping. I am at work, after all.
The other night I had a dream. Awesome! I don't really remember what was happening in the dream itself, all I remember is that at one point, I found myself looking into a mirror, and I discovered, much to my horror, that I had somehow, without my own knowledge, grown a mullet. A mullet! It was horrifying. I mean, I know I look like a fucking dork all of the time anyway, so adding a mullet onto the mix really shouldn't be a big deal. No, I think what bothered me about it was that it was a covert mullet; i.e., I never intentionally made the decision to grow it: it just appeared, fully mulletized and ready to listen to some Nugent. There's a lesson here for all of us: take control of your hair, before it takes control of you.
