floorpie

Introduce yourselves

According to my referral logs (which I check, from time to time, to find the blog-fodder within my search-string log. For instance, the top 5 searches making their way to Stuff and Stuff this month are:

1. cleavage
2. floorpie
3. fresh prince of bel aire
4. voltron
5. fotos girl

Seems fairly representative of my posts, I’d say.

By they way, Anonymous Searcher, you were looking for the excellent book A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole, not The Confederacy of Dances which somehow also led you here. The Confederacy of Dances, is also pretty great, but I’m not that into the ballet rebellion.

Also, I don’t have any information about “when Christina Aguilera is getting married” because she tells me it’s just a fling, or “stuff people stick in their butt” because it’s a trade secret),

…there have been some 5,000 direct requests to this website this month. Subtracting the 4,998 times I’ve gazed longingly and lovingly at my own page, that leaves at least 2 of you (or 1 of you, twice) who have me bookmarked in your favorites, or written in your palm, or floorpie.net tattooed chest-wise, and don’t come here through other websites, or ill-formed searches. So, who are you people/sir/madame/other?

Administrative Note

I finally fixed the perma-links, archives, and search functions. For those of you that care, they were going to raw-code pages as opposed to fully functioning HTML. So search away for ‘Dave totally nude XXX’ and enjoy.

Also, I really need to incorporate the floorpie back into floorpie:

When I lived in the Bay Area, I would often go to this incredible junk yard in San Francisco, Building Resources, as a means of inspiration, or art supplies, or just because. Perhaps my considering this an afternoon date was part of the reason for the below post about ex’s being married. But I digress. I loved that place, and wish that at least that part of NoCal would migrate it’s way down south (if you live in the LA area, and know of somewhere similar, please let me know).

There was really no point in mentioning the above, except that it was a jewel in an otherwise not-so-great part of town (here comes the segue) much like the Modernica warehouse I went to this weekend for a huge sale. If you know me at all, you know I’m in to the whole modern aesthetic, it being one of the primary reasons I’m so in to product design.

I’m sure I had a point in here somewhere, but it’s clouded by the pounding headache plus the Excedrin and Pepsi’s I’ve had to combat it. Ah yes:

I bought an Eames chair for about half off which, for me, is my first “real” modern furniture purchase. Completely stoked about it. I assume it will be totally unappreciated by my friends, especially if they ask me how much i paid for it, but at leaset ADG loves it (having been swept up in my obsession and now quite knowledgable in her own right).

It turns out I didn’t have a point after all.

Must…stop…scrolling.

Foundphotos: these were found by doing a search using p2p programs. people share their own personal digital photos in their shared folders, i guess they put them there for friends or family to download or just select their whole my documents folder as shared.

Simultaneously erotic, disturbing, endlessly fascinating, and just good ol’ fashioned weird. Did I say completely enthralling and endlessly fascinating, yet?

[link via ariel]

I just received my first New Job™ paycheck. That means it’s official, I really do work here. For those from the New Job™ reading this, I thought I deserved more, too [insert winking smiley face emoticon].

Also, the wedding was awesome… though I could tell you a few stories about an outdoor wedding in Sacramento in July.

Addendum
One commentor (see below), which, by the way, statistically accounts for roughly 84.37% of my total readership, wants to know about the weddings in July in Sacramento. Therefore:

Here’s the thing about weddings in July in Sacramento:

They are hot.

Blisteringly hot would not be an overstatment judging by the friends of the groom first bubbling, blistering, and then bursting into flames… which doesn’t help matters, of course. The additional heat, you see. These are things that don’t help weddings in July in Sacramento:

.: being outdoors
.: being before sundown… so much before sundown, in fact, that you might call it sun-not-down-but-instead-residing-comfortably-on-your-shoulder
.: wearing a tux
.: said tux not being the powder blue ruffled-shirt variety with Love Boat-esque cabana shorts, but instead the undershirt, shirt, vest, and black jacket variety created in what I can only assume was some kind of ultra-thick wool designed for heat absorption.
.: locking your knees convulsively despite your best efforts not to.

Upon walking down the aisle and waiting for the bride to arrive, I immediately noticed that the striated shadow-patterns created by a row of palm trees in the distance had conveniently left me smack in a sunbeam… or several sunbeams… it is, in fact, fair to say that I was gang-raped by sunbeams.

I immediately started to think about what would happen if I passed out. “Should I fall on the best man, or fall toward that unicorn? Will anyone notice? Am I really about to pass out? I think I’m about to pass out, should I tell someone? Should I say ‘excuse me’ and then pass out? What, exactly, is the passing out protocol?” This was, of course, mostly predicated by me just thinking about it (in the same way, incidentally, that I managed to get x-ray vision, but that’s another story). To continue:

Luckily, there was no breeze to distract me. There was, however, sweat. Strangely, concentrating on how a river of sweat was running down my entire body took my attention away from the passing out, and left me fairly stable. Those in the shade stood cooly (realtively) by, whilst myself, and to a lesser extent Crob next to me, dealt with the puddles forming in our shoes. Luckily, the bride’s entrance sufficiently distracted all of the guests enough so that, with exchanged glances, we could both whip out clothes and soak up some of the deluge.

And then came the ceremony. With the rings and the shirt sticking to my back, and the I do’s with the hair on my calves literally burning due to teh molten pants cloth laying against them, and the kiss the bride with the rubber soles of my shoes bonding to my toes.

And then relief. Blessed, blessed relief.

Is it just me, or does Ben Harper have a humongous melon? (Which, by the way, is quite a statement coming from me)

One of my best friends is getting married this weekend. That’s weird. Is now when we all start to get married? Already?

When I was 10, I was going to get married at 25. At 29, I’m freaked out that my friend is getting married at 30. Let me say that again in a different way: I am stoked that he’s getting married, especially to her which I also love. I am freaked that that means that people get married around now.

People want the personal details, here’s a personal detail:

Every ex-girlfriend I’ve ever had is married. Every. Single. One.

What’s more, for the most part, they have all married the guy they dated directly after me. Yeah.

I’m not sure how to feel about that last bit. Actually, I am sure about how to feel about it, I’m not sure if I want to admit it. It makes me feel a few things, actually:

.: I am so awful that women want to get committed to someone else as quickly as possible. After all, with people like me running around out there, you’d better take what you can get.
.: I am so terrible to be with that it gives a greater appreciation for people previously thought of as “bastards”, “liars” or “a cheating asshole”
.: I am perpetually The almost One. Good enough to get women interested in the idea of long-term relationships, but not good enough to actually participate in it with me.

And a very distanct possibility:

.: I am actually so amazing and hard to get over, that women are driven to marry someone else just to try and forget about me.

Yeah, I don’t really believe that one, either.

At any rate, my friend is getting married! And that’s awesome! And I can’t really use enough exclamtion points to illustrate my happiness about it! Is this enough!! Or this?!!!! No!!!!!! Everything’s super-duper!!!!!!

And pigs might fly outta…

Harrods Department Store owner Mohammed al-Fayed looks down at a Piaget 18 carat white gold and diamond necklace priced down to $32,760, from $68,432, worn by singer Christina Aguilera during a tour of the Harrods store in London, Monday June 28, 2004.

Uh-huh. Remind me to use that excuse in the future.

I saw regular octane gas for under two dollars a gallon last night and I just about had a heart-attack. Suddenly, I was back in the early 90’s (which explains the clothing [see below]), and it was good.

Also, when your laptop hasn’t arrived, yet, and your hotel has crappy webTv, there is little better than a 24-hour Kinko’s. It isn’t a hip internet cafe, it doesn’t have the most cutting edge technology, but it’s quick, cheap, and easy. Just like the… never mind.

I’m in Chi-town right now, not experiencing any wind in the Windy City. Upon arrival I saw two unrelated mullets within 5 minutes of each other. I thought they might have been being ironic.. they weren’t.

Also? Fashion is somewhere marginally after pegged jeans but before new-retro Gap t-shirts. Get me back to the land of silicone and broken dreams!

I’m writing this on the WebTV-ish internet service at the Radisson and I now know exactly why it failed. Painful. I have resorted to standing on the bed in hopes of getting a good IR signal for the keyboard. No such luck. (that last sentence took 4 attempts).

And my window faces a brick wall. Sweet.