Being in a space rock band comes with many responsibilities. One of these is to stay informed about current space events (and space in general) and imparting this knowledge to the public through music and speech. Today's fact:

When discussing the seventh planet from the sun, careful pronunciation may be necessary to avoid embarrassment; say "YOOR a nus" , not "your anus" or "urine us."

Fellow space rock band member Jeff Space conjectures, "Instead of spending a trillion dollars to send one manned mission with a high probability of success to Mars, we could send a thousand billion dollar missions with much lower probabilities of success. A bunch probably wouldn't make it out of the atmosphere, but this would push the other astronauts (ten thousand? more?) to innovate or die, thus emulating the great colonizations of the past."
link to this post   10:49 AM by Trey | (0)
I was at Whole Foods and I was like, "whoa...yuppies."

One man stood out from the crowd, however. I couldn't tell if he was supposed to be dressed as a pirate or a medieval bard or something, but he looked like he was taking a break from the Renaissance festival. He had knee high leather boots, and an outfit that was probably an interpretation of his favorite D&D character.

It was really crowded in the store, and this portly gentleman was doing his best to navigate his fat ass around the free-range olive oil, all-natural artificial sweeters, and thin-lipped socialites displaying their most tastefully sweaty jogging atire.

When I first noticed him, whenever he would reach a navigational dilemma, he would politely step out of the way and, with a dramatic sweep of his arm, offer a clear path to the oncoming pedestrians. But see, he was REALLY FAT and I noticed he was getting tired very quickly. His polite gestures became less dramatic and were executed out of sense of duty rather hastily. Before he got all the way through the crowd, his loosely tied poet's shirt was starting to soak through with sweat.

He then proceeded to BARGE through the last group of shoppers, clipping an old woman in a wheelchair in the process. Then he charged the last few paces to the food sample display which was his goal. Or should I say: BOOTY!
link to this post   10:25 AM by Trey | (0)
Guys like to pee standing up. It is bred in our genes. There is something satisfying about assuming a wide-leg stance and bringing a healthy stream of urine into the world.

Guys don't like to pee next to other guys. Perhaps it harkens back to our animalistic side, in which peeing represents a marking of territory. "Well if we are peeing in the same place, then it means we have the same territory, and that is, like, sooo gay."

This affords me much entertainment in public restrooms that have multiple urinal stations. About one in three guys will turn their head and look at you or your crotch as you start your business. What I like to do when I see this phenomenon is put on my biggest, creepiest, most maniacal grin (which is pretty freaky considering the amorphous nature of my face) and stare directly at them for the duration of our time together. Sometimes I start chuckling/tittering very quietly for dramatic effect. It's the next best thing from turning away from the urinal and peeing on them a little.

I've never done that, by the way. If someone ever did that to me, I would be dumbfounded.
link to this post   3:48 PM by Trey | (0)
The "Cannibal Corpse" Party was a success. I jettisoned pretty early, leaving my surviving roommates to fend off the legions of advancing zombies. The NOPD paid two visits to our house that night, due to noise complaints (screams of terror, loudly cracking bones, and the buckets of viscous blood pouring down our front porch), but they left empty handed both times. Then again, nobody left the party alive.

Next party: Motley Crüe. Early March. Stay tuned.
link to this post   12:34 PM by Trey | (0)
I was talking with a friend about how it is much easier to feel comfortable around someone that you have just met if you are not impressed by your initial impression of this person. It's like, "I don't care what you think. This is who I am." I think this may lead some people that I am not so fond of to take a liking to me.

Fuck insecurity. I'm so passed that high school bullshit. For someone that dislikes most people, it is just so jarring for me to be truly impressed by a person, and being around them feels like some undeserved reward.

I used to believe that I could see ultraviolet and infrared light. When I was riding to school in the morning in my carpool, I would squint at the sun and rainbows of color would swim around the periphery of my vision. I was probably just fucking up my vision permanently, but when I did that, I saw a "color" that I was not in the rainbow. I know that this scientifically impossible, and my inability to describe it would further debunk it's existence. However, it exists for me (without the aid of psychotropic drugs, mind you), and to deny it would require me to deny all my senses.
link to this post   1:38 PM by Trey | (0)
It really is incredible, with the amount of rocking out that I do in my 14X14 bedroom, that I don't hurt myself more often. Or at least break stuff. I suppose injuries were more frequent when I played guitar every day. With a guitar, I am much more likely to:

a) Jump and forget to land
b) Try to slide on my knees with shorts (or boxers)
c) Swing the head of the guitar into the TV screen

I woke up to the sweet sounds of punk rock this morning. My roomie decided to put on her tape of Samhain bootlegs at 6:30am. How hardcore is that? I found it oddly comforting to watch Danzig and Co. for a half hour before I began my daily routine.

I actually don't have a daily routine. I am totally unpredictable. Check it out: A human eyeball weighs one ounce. Bet you didn't see that one coming...
link to this post   2:11 PM by Trey | (0)
In the basement of our apartment building there is a room that lies directly underneath my bedroom on the first floor. This room is like a recreation of a Quay Brothers film set. There are the standard creepy items: blood spattered baby dolls with one eye missing and their hair torn out, a collection of rodent skulls, Boschesque scenes of Judgement Day pasted on the walls. Assorted dildos.

However, the piece de resistance of this macabre menagerie is an apparatus that was apparently assembled by one of the former residents for submission to one of her upper level art classes at Loyola. Upon a wooden frame there is a pneumatic pump which is surrounded by several gauges that may or may not work. This pump is attached to a plexiglass enclosure that feeds into a hose that has a full face gas mask attached to the end of it.

Inside the plexiglass is a decomposing rat.

(pause for dramatic effect)

The idea is that you pressurize the chamber and release the air into the inhaler by pressing a button. This is intended to simulate the feeling of death. I haven't tried it yet, but I like to think of it at night, just below my floorboards. It is also great for picking up chicks. The end.
link to this post   12:00 PM by Trey | (0)