God bless the neighbor.  his text to me today:

“(name removed) is on her way over and should be here in about 15 to 20 minutes if you wanted to be outside smoking or letting the dog out so you can see her.”

too awesome.  or rad.  i think i’m gonna bring back “rad.”

speaking of the neighbors, I finally relented and am heading down to their beach house this weekend.  How much trouble do you think Evan, Kristie (queen of seacrets & baby powder!), and I can get in to?

the highlight, at least for you, is that I have purchased a speedo to completely embarrass his sister Kendra.  The plan was to hang out with her at the pool with it on, but I gotta tell you… after I possibly tried it on, I don’t have the balls (probably literally) to pull this off.  I think you have to like shave or something to wear the thing!!!

What will likely happen is that I’ll put it on for one minute for shock value, and take a completely unflattering picture for all to see (you have been checking the twitpic top right haven’t you?).

Qualifiers:  Please keep in mind, I haven’t been able to lift a weight with my upper body in like 4 months thanks to the bum arm; and I ate like a turd for a straight month once I got back from vegas.

Thankfully in the past 2 weeks I’ve shed 3 of the 8 lbs I put on by cutting out fast food, but still… please be kind.

(names have been changed in the following story to protect those innocent until proven guilty.  Mr & Mrs “X” should in no way bare any resemblance to, ummm, Mr & Mrs W.  yeah, that’s it.)

So work is winding down, and I start seeing some headlines crossing about a couple metro trains going all headlong into each other.  So seeing the time and rough area where it happened, figured it would be oh so nice of me to check with my bud Mr. X to make sure he wasn’t on those trains. 

So I give a courtesy call… and no answer.  Then I figure I’d shoot him a text.  delivered.  and nothing.

so then the death toll starts to rise a bit, and of course I’m starting to freak out (just a little bit, k? don’t think i went all pussy on you).  So after not hearing anything for a couple hours, I’m like screw this I’m calling Mrs. X.

the following is our transcript (a bit paraphrased):

(ring ring)
Mrs. X:  Hello.
Jasoncam: Hey.
Mrs. X: Heyyyy!
Jasoncam: Yo, is your husband Mr. X home?
Mrs. X: Yeah, why?
Jasoncam: That Mother F’er, tell him him to return calls or texts. I saw the news and wondered if he was on those trains.
Mrs. X: Oh, he’s out mowing the yard. He takes the marc train. Funny I’ve gotten a lotta calls.
Jasoncam: OK, yeah I saw the news and the death toll kept rising. Glad he’s ok.
Mrs. X: Well thanks for worrying. You want me to have him call you when he’s done taking a shit?
Jasoncam: Nah, that’s ok, thanks.
(hangs up)

wait, what?

Happy Father’s Day.  Thank you for not beating me. much.

love,

parm

let’s try a new 7 word or less review system:

Longest. Ninety. Seven. Minute. Movie. Ever.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the reviews rolling in and they said it should be called “Year ZERO.”  It had several LOL moments, and quite a few quotable lines (”I will be right back to cut your penises”), but they were too few and far between to save it.  We did however see a pretty cool trailer for something called District 9…

Year One gets Two Pomeranians, out of Five.

I got up so early this morning that I confused the lightening bugs that were still hovering around outside.  They were like “yo dude, we better get to bed!”  Remind me not to make physical therapy appointments for like 8am anymore (instead I scheduled next week’s for 8:15am).

so yeah, i’m in round two of therapy on what is now deemed an elbow problem.  After my 2nd cortisone shot last week, I’m throwing everything at it this time to try and heal it up.  You’re only allowed 3 shots before they have to do surgery… so now I’m back to the therapist, and I’m gonna throw in some accupuncture to boot.

I also got this fat (not phat) arm band I have to wear for the tendanitis.  Think a Livestrong bracelet, only ten times the thickness, not as cool, and in black.  beautiful.

So today the therapist did some total quack shit to me.  I went in expecting more strengthening exercises like we had for the shoulder.  but oh no… instead he put two elctropads on me and hooked me up like i was a car battery and he was gonna give me a jump.  on one of the pads was some medicine stuff (dexamethasone??) that he was going to be “shocking into” my arm.  wtf?!  yeah that sounds like legit science to me….

and then when that was done, he told me I had to leave one of the pads on for an hour… which has this little metal nub on it.  So now I either look like I am part cyborg, or I have a shiny metal third nipple sticking out of my elbow.

anyways, I’m off to see Year One today… will be back with a brief 2 word review later.

At least something good came out of what little reality shows are on.  I was catching up on ye ol dvr of “I’m a shitty show but addictive, Get me out of here” and I saw sanjaya making potato chips.  Show + me actually having potatoes from the grocery store =’s kitchen adventure.

they turned out awesome, but I did take off the tip of my right ring finger in the slicer thingy (and yet for some reason it didn’t even bleed.  weird).

Sadly, no videos for you from recital.  I was busy to say the least.  We sold close to 325 tickets!!! not bad for a first year studio.  The girls all got together and thought it would be cute to drench me with super soakers on stage.  oh vengance will be mine.

and while the actual recital went well, the after party was off the hook (is that still urban? or too 90s?).  Open bar for pasadena is crazy bad.  While I won’t recount the entire night for you, there was definetly some queer eye for the straight guy going on that night (with me being the straight guy i swear).

now it’s back to peaceful bliss.  back to munching on my chips….

OK, so maybe this whole blanking out of my crackberry is getting a bit ridiculous.  case in point this morning, when I texted Eric the Personal Trainer:

me:  I’m available whenever if you wanna start earlier.

eric:  So is this your way of telling me to come no matter how I feel or did you just not get my cancel text.

oops.  such a “plate” driver I am (callback to my t9word post… get it?! get it?! me so funny).

Little Parm gets to pack his bags and stay at my rents Saturday and Sunday.  This preparation for the Jamz Recital is eating me alive.  work all morning, then shower, then go to studio… get home 11ish.  rinse, repeat.

i am so looking forward to monday… or is it tuesday, given the aftermath of what could be a blowout JamzAfterParty sunday.  And then I have almost a full 4 weeks before my real work gets busy, and summer classes start up at the school.  This will be the first time in like 3 years where things are finally back to normal… 6 weeks on, 6 weeks off.  oh how I love you life.

I’m thinking of taking my FlipVid to the show for some behind the scenes footage.  Of course, being one of the only boys, I am extremely limited to backstage access… so if you’re into watching me sell tickets, t-shirts, and sodas, this might be your thing.  I ain’t promisin’ a thing tho.

random last thought/question:  If I have any latino readers… could you please tell me why when you are out cutting all those lawns in the swelltering sun, you always wear long pants and long sleeved shirts?  gracias in advance.

unfortunately, it was due to some JD asshat smacking into my PARKED (!!!) car while I was at Jamz.  At least the baby gangbanger paniced and called his rents, who promptly came down to the studio and made sure the kid did the right thing and didn’t just hit & run.

So of course I’m walking out the door, just me and brandee left in the entire complex, and as I get to the side lot some peeps shout out “Is this your car?”  This happening in Pasadena and all, I’m thinking one of two things… either I’m about to get carjacked, or some jerkoff hit my car.  I guess thankfully it was that latter.

At least it was only the bumper… and they admitted fault and called it into their insurance.  Only now it sucks because I have to tool around in some POS SUV called a torrent… never even heard of that damned thing before.  God how I hate driving SUVs.

Within 5 minutes of me getting my rental while they repair my baby, I realize how spoiled I am.  I’m cursing at traffic for going so slow, and as I go to pass I realize I have the accelerator pressed all the way to the floor and I’m just BARELY eeking past the grandma in the cadillac doing 40.  fan fucking tastic.

Supposedly I’m gonna get my car back today, but I highly doubt that.  The rental place told me that I could switch vehicles friday to something more respectable like a Charger if the fix isn’t in yet.  I miss you beamer

On a lighter note, I’ve been covering “work” this week while Hal, for the first time in forevs, FINALLY packaged up the kids and fam & took a vacation.  To Disney World.  I’m dead serious that he never takes time off for trips.  So what does he run into when he gets everyone down to Florida?

Gay Days at the disney parks.  seriously.  don’t believe me? you can check out gaydays.com.  the one week out of 10 years he picks to go, it’s a fruit festival.

El.  Oh.  El.

And how f’n awesome was SYTYCD last night?!?!  Come on annapolis girl, just make it a couple more rounds so that I can have you come to the studio for a workshop (the rumor is, my staff knows 4(!!!) people on the show this year, including the annapolis chick. woot woot!!)

Just thought I’d poke my head in as a followup to let you know that the orgy Mothstock finally came to an end.  The monsoon that hit where I live didn’t deter them too much, but they finally, ummm, “finished” I’d guess around 5 or so.  They then proceeded to cuddle… or as near as moths can get to cuddling, for a couple hours before (what I will just jadedly assume was) the bitch moth rolled out.  The dude moth finally hit the sky sometime overnight I guess.  bastards didn’t even clean up.  so gross picking up little moth condoms that were strewn all over the ground…

speaking of monsoon, i was texting the mrs W. about how shitty BS was (have I mentioned how craptastic broadstrip is these days?), and started to say something about how “at least the BGE was still on.”  Only, with a crackberry PosEARL (remember, pos =’s piece of shit), when I typed in the letters “BGE” using the keyboard (two letters per key), guess what word/letters it chose were the most relevant to display?  “NGR.”  just sayin’.

reminds me of the time way back when that I used the T9Word texting software (ancient, i know) I typed in “plate.”  First most relevant choice from T9 was “slave” instead.  who the fuck uses “slave” more often than the word “plate” when texting?!?!  My phone must’ve been made in the south.

so if you hear about a big million man lawsuit against racist phonemakers, ‘member you heard it here first.

aside from vairious creatures doing it in my backyard, I’ve been splitting time between home and the studio all week.  Next week I’ll basically be living there.  We have our first recital coming up on Sunday the 14th.  Thankfully I have been relegated to handling front of the house stuff, and in planning of our afterparty (open bar! open bar! if that doesn’t get you to come I have no idea what will).

Thanks to that hectic schedule, I’m going to bed earlier and earlier each night.  Last night I got home at 9:45ish and was in bed with the dog by 10:30.  Tonight is my only night off until the 15th, so I’m going to spend it doing absolutely nothing and loving it.