Okay people.

Even though I purchased tickets weeks ago, I missed Braves opening day to help Hotdamn Doyle aka Landfill move into his cutesy new apartment (or "flat" for those of you reading from over there). Well, and also because THIS BASTARD bailed on me again. I'm so over Tobes XOXO. Him and his temp jobs.

Anyway, Hotdamn and I knocked it all out in about 7 hours and now I am in serious back pain and tired as all hell. And guess what? Now I'm at work. You know why? Because I'm a hard working m*****f***er. Yer goddamn right I am.


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Rest easy, kids. I'm back. It's been an overly stressful week here in the ATL and I haven't felt much like writing about it. But, I'm better today, I'm thinking about buying a house, I'm still in love with The Boyfriend even though he's 1/4 of the stress I've been feeling, I applied for a job at the Atlanta Housing Authority, I played Capture the Flag with the kids on the museum tour today and it's payday.

Things are back to normal.

Now, if I could only get Cheeks to send me his Guest Post.

If you see him, tell him, will ya????



Even better:


I know you're all jealous. I'm a Bozzie Award Winner.


Be at peace, dear Readers. If the safety of the world should come down to a knot-tie-off between an Evil Dictator and several Georgia state Girl Scout troops, we'll be safe as kittens. I taught them all I know, and I taught them well.

Speaking of Evil Dictators, I had this conversation the other night with my best friend Hotdamn Doyle or Landfill, as most of you may know him by, about how we could be anti-war but still be pro-troop. I had the same conversation with my mother this afternoon.

Now, I don't want to be political on here at all because I am so immersed in it all the time, but I didn't know if anyone else was feeling this way, too. In steps Gordie Lachance aka Wil Wheaton, who, in his blog has put it all into words for me. Thanks, Gord-o!

Man, all this talk about Gordie Lachance has made me think about River Phoenix and how after 10 years I still can't believe he's dead. And I can't believe Corey Feldman got married and sang on a reality show for loser celebrities. AND, how that fat kid Jerry O'Connell grew up to be the guy in that kangaroo movie.

And now my blogs are beginning to look like stream of conscious writing, a la Boz, so I'm going to quit now.


This is Knot Fun

Interesting (or Uninteresting, depending on your take) Things I've Learned About Knots Today:

Knot theory studies the placement of one-dimensional objects called strings in a three-dimensional space.

Examples of Knot Theory -

A periodic orbit of a three-dimensional flow is also a closed nonintersecting curve, hence a knot. A periodic orbit has a natural orientation associated with it: the direction of time. For all of you that don't understand this, I don't either, but my bookstore co-worker / friend Chris explained to me that the theory behind knotting can best be equated to a finite piece of rope that loops back into and around itself, creating some type of time loop. Or some shit like that.

Animals that tie knots are rare but two examples that can be counted are the weaver bird and the gorilla. The weaver bird uses bits of grass and such to fabricate their nests. Some gorillas have also been observed using knots to secure their nesting place. Occasionally they tie a square knot, but more often it is a granny knot.

The Incas did not have a written language but used a system of knots tied in cords called quipus. The quipus served to do accounting of business transactions and as memory aids in recounting significant events in the local history. (Ed. note: Hey, those are my peeps!)

There may be more interesting Knot Fun Facts to come, but in the meantime, all this knot business has reminded me of my favorite joke ever. I mean, seriously, I've been telling this joke since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Stop me if you've heard this one:

A piece of string goes into a bar.
"We don't serve strings in here," the bartendar tells him.
Dejected, the string leaves the bar. The string goes outside and gets an idea. He bends himself over, ties himself in a knot, and then fluffs his ends. He goes back into the bar, sits down, and orders a drink.
"Hey," the bartendar says, "aren't you that string that was just in here?"
"Nope," the string says. "I'm a frayed knot."

Dude, I just got my Girl Scout cookie order and all is right with the world.

With Love From Atlanta, GA,


In light of the tragic events that are taking place in the Middle East, Boz will be hosting


on Sunday, March 23rd at 9pm EST. If you are even a minor Internet Celebrity Boz has probably already invited you to the pre-party. There's no dress code and it's BYOB. Boz is classy like that.

Be there.

By choice, man

Okay, I've been doing a lot of shameless self-promotion lately and haven't really blogged. So here goes a real blog with some thoughts and stuff...

I did a nice thing for myself today. I went to the Home Despot because I had to buy some rope. And no, it's not what you think it's for. The History Center is hosting yet another Girl Scout workshop tomorrow and I've been "volunteered" to show the girls how to tie the most important knots (i.e. square knot, half hitch, sheepshank, clove hitch, etc.) to get their Knot Badge, or whatever the hell it's called.

So, anyway, I had to be at Job #2 at 3 but had enough time to eat. So I went to a crappy Mexican restaurant, sat in the sunshine on the patio, read a great book about the Life Diamonds, ate chips & salsa and cheese enchiladas, and had a Mangorita. All by myself. It was totally sublime.

While I was there, I saw 2 other people doing the exact same thing. At a restaurant...eating...drinking...alone. I wonder if they were there alone because they have such a sense of self-confidence and the capability to be alone with themselves or because even though they asked people they couldn't get anyone else to go with them.

And I wonder if they were thinking the same thing about me.

A little sneak preview of what's to come:

Hot Grease Accident brings you the official I Heart This Shit (©2003) t-shirt, so now no matter where you are everyone will know how much you love that shit!


If you didn't know, now you know:

Landfill, aka Hot Damn Doyle, and I have for years now been plotting to sell a line of products under our other moniker, Hot Grease Accident. And now, thanks to Cafe Press our dream will finally come true. Look for Hot Grease Accident to return in a big way: website, blog, t-shirts, caps, and coffee and beer mugs are all COMING VERY SOON.

And please, purchase at will.

Good day.


CHEEKS! Why don't your comments work? I've left the same comment 3 times today and none have published. I'd like to leave a little something for your reading pleasure.
I don't know if you've seen THIS yet, but you need to know what to do in case of a terrorist attack.


If you Google "Bozzie Awards" my page comes up first.

I should win something for that alone, Boz.
I think a good product would be "Baby Duck Hat." It's a fake baby duck, which you strap on top of your head. Then you go swimming underwater until you find a mommy duck and her babies, and you join them. Then, all of a sudden, you stand up out of the water and roar like Godzilla. Man, those ducks really take off! Also, Baby Duck Hat is good for parties.

- Jack Handey

Queer Cash Causes Crazy Currency Quagmire


I'm shooting for Biggest Best Head on the Internet.


The Real Dustin.

Oh, and Kelda for your Euro-viewing pleasure.

These belong to me:

Amendment I

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Amendment IV

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.


My dream has come true. THERE IS A PUPPY CHANNEL.


Bookstore Rule #1:

If you walk up to my counter and bluntly give me what to me could very well be any random selection of words that you claim is a book title instead of asking me for something, you, my friend, will get ignored. Requests need to be made in the form of a proper and polite question. I am not an automated service.

Bookstore Rule #2:

If you believe angels are God's way of saying "howdy" I will cut you wide, deep, and often.

Actually, that last one's not a bookstore rule. It's more a Life rule.


I've started my 100 Things list.

Feel free to comment on anything I need to add.



Sunday, March 23rd

Be there.


How many of you are this guy.

Okay, I linked a new picture of myself because of all the Big Head talk. I still have a big head, but this pic makes me look somewhat proportional.

Hey, it's all those brains, man.
I heart me:

hotdamndoyle: see now, don't be a playa hata
workerbee818: don't hate the playa, hate the game
workerbee818: "the game"
workerbee818: like "don't hate darryl strawberry for being a cokehead and beating his wife, hate baseball"

The person I would hate to ride cross country in a car with most would be Robin Williams. I thought about this for awhile. I thought about how much I hate J-Lo and that all she'd ever talk about was Ben and also how I wouldn't be able to stand Melanie Griffith's voice or Billy Baldwin's narcissism and how Jerry Seinfeld would just rack my nerves with all that " 'Dya ever notice..." garble. And I thought about how much I really LIKE Robin Williams but really probably only on film. Have you ever seen the guy interviewed? Holy Christ, it's like someone mainlined him 8 cups of Colombian Supremo and then kicked it up a notch with a speedball and some crack. His compulsive and all-consuming need to be "on" would drive me batshit crazy. Besides the fact that I bet he's manic and so his down time would be near-suicidal. A TOTAL NIGHTMARE. So, Robin Williams is my pick.


The 10 albums I would hate to be stuck in the CD changer on a cross-country road trip with Robin Williams in are (in no particular order because I hate them with equal passion)

1. Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber of Fleet Street Any cast recording
2. Cracked Rear View Hootie & The Blowfish
3. Crash Dave Matthews Band, although any DMB album would do
4. Stranger In Town Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band
5. Kraftwerk 2 Kraftwerk
6. The Sign Ace of Base
7. Metal Machine Music Lou Reed
8. As Nasty As They Wanna Be 2 Live Crew
9. Glitter Soundtrack Mariah Carey
10. Afternoon Delight Starland Vocal Band

Oh god. Just compiling that list gave me a monster headache.


Unfortunately for me, him, our friends, our families, our respective therapists, bandmates, Star Bar regulars, an assortment of strangers on the street, circus clowns, Border Collies, co-workers, and an entire host of weblog readers, I am crazy in love with THIS GOOF.

I can't help it.


Another list about posts. Wait. Scratch that. Switch it around. Another post about LISTS. Be thinking about this one. Everyone is always posting about their FAVOURITES (<--the "ou" in honor of my internet crush Cheeks), but I though it was time for something different. Here's the question:

If you were trapped in a cross-country car ride, what person/celebrity would you hate to ride with most and what 10 albums that you absolutely hate the most would be stuck in the cd changer? Ah, hell.

And for extra credit, write a short one-act about the most annoying conversation you could have. I'll be working on mine.
A customer actually said "I'm looking for a book but I don't know the title of it. If you can tell me what the title is I can tell you if that's right."

The REAL Buddy Christ

Even though the Internet's own Buddy Christ is probably funnier.
And OH, Cheeks loves me. Aren't you all so jealous?
Boz has linked me so you can help me with my "thirst" for nice natural rackage. Um, really, it's NOT that serious.

But quench away.


THIS is more genius than you'll ever be.

Been down so long...

It has been a one crazy weekend. I'll get to that stuff later. Right now I want to talk about the movie Roadhouse starring DirtyDancing's Patrick Swayze. It's an intense thrill ride.

I'd like to recreate my favorite scene from the movie, just to show you how UNbelievable it is. Besides the UNbelievable fact that it was directed by a guy who actually bills himself as Rowdy Harrington. Rowdy.

Anyway, the scene is, and you may all remember this, when Dalton (Swayze) goes into the E/R for something or other and meets the "beautiful" Dr. Elizabeth Clay, played by Kelly Lynch, who I think is an UNbelievable skank who couldn't act her way out of a wet paper bag with scissors in her hands. That's just me, though. They are in the little room and Dalton is UNbelievably carrying around his medical records WITH HIM. She opens it up and even MORE UNbelievable his medical records list where he went to college. Okay, Dalton is a bouncer at a bar called the Double Deuce who does Tai Chi and has a PhD, but somehow...:

Dr. Clay: I see you attended NYU.
Dalton: Yeah.
Dr. Clay: What'd you study?
Dalton: Philosophy.
Dr. Clay: Any particular discipline.
Dalton: Uh, I don't know. Man's search for faith.

EXCUSE ME. What? "Man's search for faith." That's your discipline. Come the hell on. Does it get more UNbelievable than that? But, I guess with a PhD in Philosophy you can't do much more than security or housepainting.

Not only this, but the fact that there are no girls wearing just jeans and t-shirts like I DID in the 80s is UNbelievable. No, no. It looked like every single extra, and believe me there were many extras to be seen, had shopped off the sale rack at Lerner's. I mean, this show not only epitomized the 80's but glorified it. Kelly Lynch's hair was a startling 5 inches off her head and if I see another pleat...

And the fact that the main henchman for the "bad guy" drove a ford F-150 with 6-foot monster tires on it. SIX FOOT TALL TIRES. On a truck. And drove it around town, through buildings and over cars.

I realize I'm rambling, but there is no cohesive argument for or against this movie. It just is. It exists. With my knowledge and without my consent.

Big hair, big tires, big philosophy. Ah, the 80s.


Musings of The Bee:

workerbee818: in that song say you say me
workerbee818: by lionel ritchie
workerbee818: it's weird how it's all slow and dramatic and then for like 8 seconds it's a disco number
workerbee818: then it goes right back
workerbee818: i'm not sure how to take that
workerbee818: i mean am i somber and melancholy or am i carefree and happy
workerbee818: What Does Lionel Ritchie Want From Me?
Since the Whole Wide Web is trading pictures of themselves, here's MINE.

From the Merriam-Webster word of the day email.

crapulous \KRAP-yuh-luss\ (adjective)

1 : marked by intemperance especially in eating or drinking
*2 : sick from excessive indulgence in liquor

Example sentence:
If you're feeling crapulous the morning after the big celebration, drinking lots of water and taking some aspirin will help.

Did you know?
"Crapulous" may sound like a word that you shouldn't use in polite company, but it actually has a long and perfectly respectable history (although it's not a particularly kind way to describe someone). It is derived from the Late Latin adjective "crapulosus," which in turn traces back to the Latin word "crapula," meaning "intoxication." "Crapula" itself comes from a much older Greek word for the headache one gets from drinking. "Crapulous" first appeared in print in 1536. Approximately 200 years later, its close cousin "crapulence" arrived on the scene as a word for sickness caused by drinking. "Crapulence" later acquired the meaning "great intemperance especially in drinking," but it is not an especially common word.

*Indicates the sense illustrated in the example sentence.


"You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all part of the same compost pile."


Dear Ms. Sharon B. Ansley,

You came into my store today with hopes of buying books, magazines, and birthday cards. And I suspect also with hopes of feeling vastly superior to any lowly peon that works here. Even though you were only buying the lowest common denominator in reading material, I was kind to you. However, I am sure you accomplished your mission, as I am that lowly peon that you looked down your nose at and spoke to so rudely.

Sharon B. Ansley, I'm not mad about the way you treated me. I honestly feel bad that something is so very wrong in your life that you would treat me or any other service / retail employee as if I am dog shit on your new Keds. I am a young, happy, intelligent, energetic twenty-something that has fun, gets laid pretty regularly by a hot guy, and is more well-read in my twenty-something years than you are in your seventy-something years. My tested IQ is 139, children and animals love me, and I make a pretty mean cheesecake. Sharon B. Ansley, if there is something that I have done or am doing that is missing in your life or making you angry with me, I urge you to find a way to make it better or change it before you die. Because it won't be long before you do.

Sharon B. Ansley, I don't hate you. With your money and your German engineered car, your Southern college education and family name, your loveless marriage and spiteful children, how could I? A life that terrible deserves pity. I pity you, Sharon B. Ansley. I pity you.

And so, Sharon B. Ansley, in closing, I'd just like to remind you and all the Sharon B. Ansley's in the world of the words of the great Tyler Durden:

We do your laundry, cook your food and serve you dinner. We guard you while you sleep. We drive your ambulances. Do not fuck with us.

Because, Sharon B. Ansley, not only do we serve you, we also have your credit card numbers.

Kind regards,


HELL YES! No more Vatican Roulette!
I will probably NOT be doing any of the things Kevynn Malone has included in his contest (except the BM and shoe removal part...and oh yeah the drinking), because like most other national holidays, I like to celebrate in my own "special" way. So here is a list of things that I will do and/or have already done in honor of Kevynn Malone and his broken ankle:

1. Eat a monster strawberry.
2. Have a cup of Columbian Supremo. Hell, I may have 8.
3. Get laid. Sorry, no link for that one. Find your own porn.
4. Speaking of porn: Look at porn.
5. Avoid Atlanta traffic.
6. Participate in passive aggressive activity toward my roommate.

I'll keep you posted if any more celebratory actions commence.


From ATLSUPERSTAR, confusing Britons everywhere since 11/3/2002.


Quote of the day, posited by one Mr. K. Ken Johnston, in response to my admission of extreme jealousness:

"Well, you know, jealousy is a sign of maturity."

Further explanation: "It shows you have a vested interest in something. Therefore, maturity."

FINALLY. What I want to hear.


I've been plugged on ThePlug.net. First of you to find my stalker fanmail in it's secret location and E-MAILS me the proper hidden link wins the G.I. Joe vs. Cobra Activity Book War Games #1: SEARCH & RESCUE.

Hot Damn Doyle is not eligible.

A word of advice on "stunt-arguing", by the Internet's own Kevynn Malone.

Thanks, Kevynn. You may have saved me a broken bone. Or two.

(Sorry to pick on you. I have a get well gift for you if you E-MAIL me with your mailing address.)

Kind regards,

More fun with AIM:

workerbee818: dude this patchouli stench
workerbee818: it's making me all allergic
hotdamndoyle: awful?
workerbee818: awful.
hotdamndoyle: the smell
workerbee818: yes
workerbee818: i am allergic
workerbee818: to it
hotdamndoyle: wouldn't know
workerbee818: and it makes me sneeze, etc.
hotdamndoyle: sucks
workerbee818: and it makes me want to kill
hotdamndoyle: cool....so, i can control y w/ it
workerbee818: i don't know if that's actually considered an allergic reaction
workerbee818: but it's a definite reaction
workerbee818: hehe
hotdamndoyle: change my name to Dr. Calligari & keep y in a cabinet
workerbee818: cool.
hotdamndoyle: send y out on secret midnite missions
workerbee818: i can wear shit loads of white pancake makeup and blood red lipstick
hotdamndoyle: yes
workerbee818: <--somnambulist
workerbee818: wait, scratch that
workerbee818: <--AMAZING somnambulist
hotdamndoyle: haha





Details will follow.

In response to Boz's question:

If you were stranded on a deserted island with the fantasy squeeze of your choice who would be your fantasy squeeze and what ten music CD's would be essential to make your life bearable.

Here we go:

I would, of course, take The Boyfriend, because he's the only one I'd be able to stand for so long and vice versa. And, he'd have his own 10 albums that I'd love. (Question: Is listing box sets cheating?)

Guided By Voices - Bee Thousand
Guided By Voices - Isolation Drills
Elvis Costello - Girls + (pounds) / Girls = $ + Girls
Steve Earle - Transcendental Blues
Lucinda Williams - Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
Dwight Yoakam - Last Chance for a Thousand Years
Mary Lou Lord - Got No Shadow
Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life
Richard Pryor - ...And It's Deep Too!
Otis Redding - Definitive Otis Redding

Runners Up
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Michael Jackson - Off the Wall
Jose Carreras - Verdi's La Traviata


The whole world has hotlinked this image.

I don't actively hate Ben Affleck. I like him okay. I mean, I still think it was pretty punk rock of him to get arrested here in the great state of Georgia for driving 114 mph in a Caddy. A fucking Caddy. Man, that is soooooo gangsta. Wait. Is it possible to be gangsta and punk rock at the same time? Discussion for another time.

But, not actively hating him doesn't make THIS any less funny.

The Devil 1, Christians 0
The Devil 0, Christians 1

Ok, so I took the old lady's advice and got off in time for a brew. Several of them, in fact. Like 5 big tall Paulaners at the Yacht Club. It is a miserable day.

Shouts out to V+ for the link. However disturbing.


Quote of the day, posed by a very, very elderly lady customer here at the bookstore:

Lady: (waving) "Y'all get off in time to have a brew!"

Cute. Man that was f'ing cute as hell.
You may not believe this, but my BOOKstore accidentally received in it's shipment a button-up priest shirt AND collar instead of books this week. So, I'm wearing the shirt and collar around the store, ready to impart all my divine book knowledge on hapless, unsuspecting, downtrodden customers. So if you walk into a book store today in Atlanta and see a girl wearing this, you'll know it's me, ATLSuperstar.

God bless.

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