"PUSHING DAISIES"

that is, Pushing Daisies, the television series.
mm. yes, good.

http://abc.go.com/primetime/pushingdaisies/
http://www.youtube.com/user/47alias47?ob=4




ps.
oh yeah, did i mention: PUSHING DAISIES!

'Paint My Truck' Day

Yeehau! ***Completely Uncensored***

Today, August 12th, is 'Paint My Truck' Day.

Once upon a time long ago there was a 'Paint My Buick' Week, but the Buick has since been dead and buried, mourned and... and Now there is a 'Paint My Truck' Day.

Come to participate with so many others on a crazy adventure for all ages. Contribute to this passionate and driven art.

From 12 Noon til Dusk and beyond, my gorgeous matte black canvas of a truck will be at the Black Elk Co-op at 902 Baldwin, Ann Arbor, MI.

Join. Paint. Be merry, and see Joey, who will not be censoring any of the painting. Paint whatever you like.
just do it.

I love you,
Joey

The People in This Neighborhood

I ride the bus home from work. I also ride the bus to work, but that's another story.

Yesterday as I stood waiting at the Arborland Mall bus stop to catch my second bus, A few people came and gathered there with me. One of these people was an pepper-haired older woman in a purple ski coat and baseball cap. She sat on the bench near me, laid her bags on the ground, and took a sip of her steaming beverage. "How are you?" she asked me.

So I replied, "I'm alright, thanks.... A little cold though."

"Get yourself a free sample coffee at Starbuck's. There a good company. I've been dealing with them for years. There's another one down there by, uh, Golfside."

"Yes, they're everywhere."

(brief pause... ever so brief)

"Yep, you never lose with them, good company." She continues, "I came down here today, to the mall here to check out these shops. I told myself I'd go to all of them, but I only made it to three. I should've told myself I'd come down here and get to as many as I could, then I wouldn't have to be disappointed, miss out."

(ever so brief)

"I stopped over at Michael's to see what they have. They have some good deals there. Some things for 69 cents - I like to buy objects to pose with because I'm a model. Sometimes I'll glue small animals to my body," - she stamps her fingertips on her knee, "or tie things to myself... or I can get things to drape over my chest. Michael's, they usually have some good bargains."

"Sometimes they can be over-priced," I counter.

"Yeah, but I can usually find something there. I try to - I stop by thrift stores to find knick-knacks and props to use with me. But you can find good things a lot of places." At this point, the number 4 bus, my bus, pulls around the corner.

She continues, "I have to be ready for my bus... when it comes here. It co- - -"

I couldn't hear what she continued to say because I walked away to get on the bus.

It's not that I don't like to meet new people; I do, but I had this uncomfortable feeling that I had to draw her in class at some point during the last four years. Uncomfortable.

My Theme Song

This is my theme song.
I didn't choose it; it chose me.
Sometimes I hear it playing, but there is no radio around. I could be anywhere, and the right thought just pops into my head, and this song plays, and I can actually hear it... in my ears. Of course, this happens with a number of songs. It is like they're recorded in my head... but never so often as with this song.

Save Joey

Like most people, I am motivated when what I do is seen and encouraged.
Unlike most people , I need this motivation.
For some recent time, I (namely, my imagination, which is more important to my survival and personality than my brain and heart) has felt like a dead puppy.

Your mission - whether you choose to accept it or not - is to help bring me puppy back from the dead.
This is not a one person job; it is a community effort...
for all those who care about me, I challenge you to tell me what I could/should/(hell, what you would) do.

Joey needs your help.

Another AllNighter

I thought I was done with all-nighters when I graduated from college, but here I am awake at 4AM on a Tuesday night, Wednesday morning - or somewhere in between. When will I never learn? Probably forever. Who knows else what? I'm lost-ifused...

ate some ice cream that me dad had mixed hand-picked cherries into. I (h)ated it, and spit all the fruit out... of my mouth.

(((gibberish)))mumble
,
I'm tired but not sleepy
insomnirific music videos
nocturnal state not a goo-
smashing bottles over cowboys heads, and Slash on guitar
,,,whooaaaaaaaaaaaah -OA.

I feel dead in my eyes. I slept all day almost til the sun was down except it wasnt really up today(yesterday) because it was rainy all day which I liked but I slept

this is my favourite picture




little josheye

Dreams 7.17.07

I had like four dreams last night/this morning. Crazy. Let's see what scraps I can recall from them...

In one dream I could float around. My shoes were like some sort of hover shoes or something because I just glided around an inch or so off the ground, but I definitely felt like Gumby.
With the slickness of my new sweet ass shoes, I sneaked into a corporate office building to try and find a friend who has refused to speak to me for a while. I "skated" (or "coasted," or "Gumby-ed") my way around a maze of peach-walled cubicles only to be stopped and questioned by random nagging staff. I thought at some point I had seen this friend but was influenced to leave rather than continue searching.
As I hovered my way out front - it was night by the way, and I know not why - this friend came chasing out after me. We talked awkwardly for a minute. Friend offered to call me soon sometime to hang out... as if there had never been anything wrong. Then I woke up, wondered about the shoes, and went back to sleep hoping to dream something better.

In another dream I was walking down a street, reasons unknown. It was also night. I passed a bank heading into a parking lot, and saw two young guys with guns preparing to enter said bank. I don't think I cared, so I pretended like hadn't seen them, but one gunman called to me telling me to "come on inside" with them. I ran. Ducking around one brick wall, I was forced to try escaping into none other than a McDonald's. (This may have been worse than being taken hostage, but I was spooked.)
I hid under a cashier's counter as the gunman barged in. He jabbered on something about looking for me. People screamed a bit, but not much. And eventually, because in this dream I am too big to fit under a counter, he spotted me. As I stood to face him he said something cocky, pointed his gun at me and fired.
I flinched, but instead of feeling a bullet hit me in the chest or arm, I felt it wedge in my right ear... not like a bullet shooting my ear, but like an ear plugbeing pressed in. I looked back at the stunned gunman, and pulled his bullet from my ear. It was unscathed, looked brand new. Then another bullet sprouted in my ear... and another in the other ear. What the hell, indeed! I pulled these out, but alas, two more. We chuckled over it. The gunman hesitated to try and shoot me again. Feeling mildly invincible, I offered the gunman the bullets in my hand. He asked me for more. I continued to pull bullets from ears until he was satisfied.
Thank God I woke up from that one.

In another dream - also night - I was stuck in a house with people I do not know. One reminded me of Colonel Sanders. He was the grandfather. I was one of three kids, a friend of the grandson.
I can't seem to remember much of this dream, but it involved some supernatural gift the grandson had that chased some evil from invading our home, or dimension, or planet... I guess.
At the end, the grandfather crashed out in the garage where he lived. My friend's older sister came home wondering what was up. I tried to flirt with her for a minute; she ignored me; and before I knew it, I was boarding a bus home in front of their house... in the middle of the night.

Writing about those dreams made me forget the fourth one.
If I remember it ever, I will come back to this entry and tell yous... but that is unlikely.

Dream 7.14.07

Yesterday was my dad's birthday.
So in my dream, it was also my dad's birthday. I decided to take him golfing. My stepmom and little sister also came along though they do not golf, but they wanted to spend time with Dad.

We went to this new upscale golf course. The place was packed. Obviously it was very popular... and very expensive. At the only counter - I don't remember waiting in any line - we could order pretty much anything you would find a pro shop, or a bar. Naturally we needed:
a tee time for two,
golf balls,
lunch,
a membership (I think,)
two golf bag strollers because there was no way golf carts could drive this course - I'm pretty sure there was an elevator somewhere -
and two kegs... which could be carried on the strollers. (I guess we were thirsty.)
Unfortunately because this place was so new and fancy, the bill totaled over $600. I put it on my credit card. I don't how it went through because my credit card is overdrawn right now, but... over $600.

The first tee was on the close side of the building on the second floor. By the time we hiked up to it, the line at the counter ran outside, and a line had hiked up behind us at the tee. I looked out across the course.

It was like nothing you've ever seen before. It was indoors in a massive warehouse-sized complex. This place was bigger than a WalMart. Each hole was corridored off from the others by ceiling-high nets and plexiglas walls. Arranged in a maze, the holes wound around corners where the doglegs were more like U-turns. Golfers were banking shots off of walls. Some holes overlapped others above or below as each seemed to move up or down multiple floors. This strange course reminded me of an uncanny mixture of an indoor driving range, a mini-golf course, and a carnival fun house, but on a much larger scale.

My dad and his new clubs were already prepared to tee off. And as he took his first swing, I was still trying to strap the keg and my bag onto the stroller. People waiting behind us began to heckle. While I tried to hurry faster, they only grew more impatient. My dad had banked his first shot around the corner and onto the floor below, so he offered to go ahead and play the rest of the hole while I was catching up. We could play back together on the second hole. He, stepmom, and Racheal walked downstairs.

Meanwhile - this is where things get worse, not better - I thought I had strapped everything in properly. I looked for my driver, but my clubs are an incomplete set and some of them get misplaced once in a while. The driver was gone. I could've borrowed one of my dad's, but he had gone ahead. 'Come on,' people continued to harass me. The line was building. And the counter attendants were peering up the hill (or corridor, or incline, whatever.) I just grabbed a club, dropped my ball, and swung. I topped the ball. It bounced between the walls a bit. I dropped another. I swung again. I missed. Then the keg and my bag fell off the stroller. People were getting loud. I started to look for my family, but I didn't see them.

As I tried to pick up my things and pack them onto the stroller, a couple golfers jumped in front of me. They teed off, and the line gradually edged me against the wall. I threw my bag over my shoulder and pulled the keg along on the stroller. (I'm pretty sure I left a club behind.)

I took off cutting across fairways wandering throughout the second floor. I began calling for my dad who was forced to continue playing without me. I felt like a little boy lost in an amusement park. Here I am standing in the center of this maze that is some insane golfing complex looking for my family because we've been separated. I spun searching in every direction, but saw no one I recognized. I could hear only golf balls flying by. The passing golfers ignored me as they played through. I sat down and started to cry...

I had tried to do something nice for my dad and my family. I had found this amazing new adventure. I paid for a very expensive outing, which I had not even been a part of yet, and it was coming closer to an end with each passing minute. Watching the feet of each passing golfer felt like clubs swinging against my chest.

I got hit in the ribs with a golf ball. No one bothered to yell 'Fore.' I staggered to my feet, and started down the path to the front counter. At the bottom of the hill, my dad had just arrived up front as well. He was looking for me at the counter asking if they had seen me. I came up beside him. I tried to explain what happened, but I was still shaken. I didn't need to; he understood.

We gave the owners (or managers, or counterpersons, whatever) some hassle over the trouble we had. They tried to give us trouble back. But in the end we gave them their kegs, they gave us our money back, and we played through... from the fifth hole where my dad had stopped golfer traffic in order to find me.

...which reminds me.

There are at least four separate cordless phones in my house.
When someone calls the house, no two ring simultaneously...
and no two share the same ring tone...
but every ring sounds like a chirping bird - a different chirping bird,
so when someone calls, the house sounds full of chirping birds...
and since we collectively rarely answer the house phone,
each chorus of chirping birds is followed by the typical answering machine recording... and a finale of two quick and sharp dog barks.

I hate it because I think it is funny,
and I think it is funny because I hate it.

Spider Vs. Sleeping Joey, Postponed

Go figure, the only female I ever find randomly lying in my bed is a spider.
Some luck.

Had I not caught her under my covers, one of us surely would have paid for it. Tonight I chased her out.
But if she returns, perhaps we will lie awake all night talking about how much we long for the comfort of -
Yes, right.

If I ever found a random lying in my bed, I would ask her who she is and how she got here, regardless of how single I am at the time. I would heroically help her find wherever she was lost from. Fighting bad guys along the way, I would reunite her with her lost love. I would receive gracious thanks and praise from the townspeople for my noble deeds. And riding off into the sunset, preferably on a faithful steed, back to my bachelor-esque life of rescuing the people, I could be heard singing most debonairly the theme to Batman.

And if I find that spider in my bed again, I will probably have to kill it.
This makes me sound insensitive, I think to myself, as I drift into a deep slumber. The venom of her sultry sting coursing through m-

You'll have to forgive me. It's late.
And I just don't feel like deleting this because it makes me laugh.

dream 4th of july?

it would seem waking is always inevitable too.
i'm glad i could cut that dream off. i wasn't even in it.
it was like some stupid-ass reality game challenge show being filmed. i was watching all this dumb bickering going down among a bunch of characters i never even met. talk about off the wall... i'm not sure this dream was ever even on it... the wall, that is.

i'll knock it up to too much junk food before bed. and call it a nightmare.
back to sleep.

Dream 6.29.07

I dreamt last night (or this morning) that I stopped at Ted&Paula's, a local liquor, store before a road trip. Some new management had turned it into a some kind of convenience store/flea market. All the stuff they were selling outside was just stacked in open cardboard boxes. Some of it was across the street.

I stopped to look for Gatorade and underwear, two essential road tripping items. First I checked "the clothing section" outside, but to my dismay, no underwear. They were sold out. Maybe there were a lot of road trippers today.

Annoyed I went inside to find a thirst quenching beverage. I remember I really wanted a blue one - specifically the baby blue one that says "Frost" on it. After what seemed like hours of searching in such a tiny store - it felt like dozens of people kept asking me questions like I worked there, and I was distracted by some imitation brand baseball caps - I finally located the Gatorade. Except the Gatorade was not in the freezer, but hanging on a rack in an aisle adjacent to the freezer. And not only was it out of place - at least in my opinion - but it was re-bottled... and all the bottles were filled to different levels... but they were genuine Gatorade bottles - with the labels torn off - priced at an expected Gatorade bottle price. Oh, and they didn't have baby blue.

Needless to say without finding new underwear or safe Gatorade, I spoke something smart-ass to the clerk/new management and swifted myself out of there.

As I made my way across the street to where I had parked near the underwear - or lack thereof - "display," I crossed a former art professor, Jim Gogswell. Coincidentally he was also there looking for underwear, and not having found it, he was on his inside to put up a fuss.

Then my cousin called and woke me up to ask me to make him an email address.