sardines.

March 11, 2011

there are these things.

these girls and these jobs, and these not jobs, and these situations where you feel like it’s a a makeorbreak kinda moment.

there are these moments where we must define ourselves as people.

there are moments where the heart breaketh and runneth over in a matter of seconds.

there are seconds. we are given a lot of them, usually, but they are only seconds.

some people fill up on seconds while others barely get firsts. and usually the people filling up on seconds are the ones who could afford to lose a few pounds.

we gain and we lose and we push forth.

the pushing forth part is the part that matters.

the human body declares that we push forth in order to be born.

don’t be a drag, just be a queen.

illuminati, all through your body – just be seen.

seeing is subjective. everyone can look, but only few of us can see.

the few, the proud, the sardines.

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three moments.

January 25, 2011

there are times in one’s life where a lesson must be learned. the ebb and the flow, the sunrise and the sunset. this balance must be maintained. whether it’s lows or highs, these are our moments. these moments that make up the essence of life. these are my moments:

1. i like poop.

sometimes i fart in french because it sounds classier.

2. coffee shots.

i got a cup of coffee:

other person: “how’s your creamer treating you?”

me: “isn’t that sexual harassment?”

3. i get it. lesbians can be described as “vagitarians.” especially because a lot of lesbians are vegetarians. whatever, whatever.

some people describe me as a “vagitarian” not because i’m a lesbian, but because i’ve recently stopped eating ass. it’s just, like, empty calories. i had to let it go.

sometimes thoughts are weird, guys.

this is my ebb.

mightybishop Does Cooking Hamburgers with Frozen2Late

December 12, 2010

this is my girlfriend. this is her video about cooking hamburgers. i am obsessed with it.

 

this is a video i made at xtranormal.com to pay homage to the video that i love oh so much.

See Spot Rhyme Like a Social Media Slut: A Love Rap

December 6, 2010

hello and good evening, ladies and germs, and

girls with extensions and dudes with bad perms, and

get a translator if you think i’m speakin’ german,

i’m a little munster, but my name was never herman..

i like my cover girl to stay easy and breezy,

her presence is a present, like that man, kan-yeezy,

i fell in love right there when she told ’em to free weezy,

a lady in the streets, but in the sheets, a little sleazy..

shiksas are for practice, but that girl is so profesh,

i said my A.D.D. kicks in along with booty in a dress,

i wanna be like mr. clean when her life is in a mess,

get rid of dirt and grease and grime and goo and fear and funk and stress..

but you know..

..

..

..

..

frankie says relax, and right said fred,

’cause when you’re six feet under, you’ll be better off dead,

and when she goes all sleepy hollow and she loses her head,

she be pickin’ out  her pumpkin when she’s sleeping in my bed..

i’m an oral interpreter, a master debater,

a teller of tales, a linguist, a sayer,

a caller-out-of-bullshit, please do me a favor,

and go vanilla on me, ’cause i’ll have to bring the flavor..

ice cream is for quitters, imma be her fro-yo,

and i know she’s lived a fast life, so imma go slow,

in the car POOL lane, i’m her dick, she’s my jane,

and the way we maintain

is the highway in our brain

so, getting back to the main,

(that was the A.D.D. again)

you make me drool..’cause carbs rule..and i vote pancakes for mayor.

a declaration of interdependence.

September 22, 2010

There’s this everlasting struggle between humans and nature, and another between “man” and “machine.” These may seem like opposing viewpoints – but maybe the machine, in this case, is the Divine Machine. The “greater than” in life. The most complex of all complexities – in something as simple as a blade of grass. It’s not “man,” it’s human. Maybe man is just a shortened form of a word that represents the rational thinking, opposable thumb using, communicators that we are. But we’re all in this together. Animal, vegetable, mineral – everything in the natural world falls into one of these categories. Therefore we are a part of nature. And because of this nature – because we have this ability to think and change and develop – we have created machines. We have been granted the mental capability to manufacture completely synthetic objects that make our lives easier. We can develop entire cities of buildings, but we can also destroy them with a single bomb. We can save a life using intricate tools, but we can take one just as easily. We are humans, we are nature, we are machines. We are all and we are none. The best we can do as is use our talents and abilities to promote the greater good while understanding that a balance must be maintained. Life may be a struggle, but it is a beautiful one. And that, my friends, is a Declaration of Interdependence.

a contradictory love letter from a romantic sociopath.

July 30, 2010

hey, beautiful.

and by beautiful, i mean you’re hideous. and by hideous, i mean you’re gorgeous. SLASH disgusting.

how’s it going, baby? i hope you’re doing well. i mean awful. i mean marvelous. i’m having a great day. i want to go on a murdering spree today. work has been alright, i guess. i mean, there are always ups and downs. haven’t really eaten much today. i’m eating everything in sight. skipped lunch so i would look thinner and people would like me more. binged on funyuns and three liters of dr. pepper. you know, the usual.

i’ve thought about you a lot today. sometimes when i think about your smile it gives me butterflies in my stomach. SLASH makes me want to slap small children. SLASH takes my breath away. and by that i mean, i can’t breathe because i’m choking on vomit. which smells like funyuns and dr. pepper. you really do melt my heart.

i’ve been having a really great time getting to know you. every time you speak i get a sharp pain in my inner-ear. and i hope that we continue on down the path that we’re going, because that path is pretty awesome. the path that we’re on is in a back alleyway somewhere and it smells like bum piss. every day with you is like a new adventure. yeah, an adventure called “slowly sucking the life-essence from my soul.” sometimes i can’t wait to wake up with you in the morning so we can start a new day together. you make me want to develop an addiction to ambien. gosh, i just like you a lot.

i guess what i’m trying to say is that i’m really happy that you’re a part of my life. the part that includes highway traffic and explosive diarrhea. i want you to know that i’m going to do anything in my power to make your days brighter. and by brighter, i mean beige. and by beige i mean neon green. SLASH dark clear.

you really are something special, you know that? you blend in with the crowd and sometimes i don’t even see you standing there. life is funny. as soon as you stop searching, you find what you’re looking for. SLASH you make me feel like i’m playing hide ‘n’ seek and i’ve been in the pantry for 45 minutes and i already have to pee and all i can smell is beef bouillon so then i sneeze and a little bit of pee comes out and then i have to cross my legs and hold my crotch for an additional eight minutes. i mean come on, i just sneezed, you couldn’t tell where that sound was coming from for eight whole minutes?! i’ll probably get a u.t.i. now. and by u.t.i., i mean a positive outlook on life.

well, i guess i’ll get going for now. there is still so much for me to do before i fall asleep tonight. SLASH i’ll probably just sit here and drink cheap beer and think about all the things i should be doing, but instead i’ll youtube funny cat videos.

i hope your today was better than your yesterday, and your tomorrow is better than your today. your best days are behind you; it’s all downhill from here.

sweet dreams. SLASH sour nightmares.

i love you. and by love, i mean despise. and by despise, i mean eh, you’re alright.

yours truly, i’m a compulsive liar,

courtney.

Black people love Ken Apperson: How a skinny white boy gets down

July 1, 2010

If I know anything as an honorary black person, I know that black people don’t fake feeling music. There’s no such thing as a polite head-bob; something has to seep inside of them [us] and make them [us] move. And the crowd at Green Iguana in Ybor last Thursday … they [we] were feelin’ it.

Ken Apperson. Local musician. Skinny white boy. Within five minutes of watching his set, you can tell that he’s not just playing music, but that he is music. It’s rare that you find someone who has a voice that is just as much of an instrument as the guitar strapped to his chest. He slips seamlessly between a velvety tenor and a falsetto that will subtly strip your clothes off. Speaking of, the way his fingers work his guitar suggests that he may or may not be a ferocious lover. It’s really not up to me to say. Cigarette, anyone?

Ken plays some covers. Anyone can play covers, right? Not the way he does. Ken plays some hip-hop. On guitar. It’s fascinating to watch, really. It takes a special kind of talent to take a hard-hitting song that is notorious for being overproduced and synthetic, and translate it into a Maroon 5-ish type track that is something else entirely. You should see what he does with “Lollipop.” Weezy F would choke on his AutoTune plugin. More so than covers, however, Ken’s heart lies within his original tracks like “Keep Dreaming.”

Ken is a true artist. Starting at the age of 16, on his mom’s “piece of shit, no-name acoustic,” Ken taught himself the basics. With the help of the Internet, he played that guitar until his fingers bled. His mom got him lessons for his next birthday, and within a year, he was the one doing the teaching. Hailing from St. Louis, music was the thing that brought Ken to Tampa when he was 21.

And now Tampa’s lucky to have him. Here’s his upcoming local schedule for the month of July:

7/2 Gilligan’s Bar & Grill, Tampa 4:30-8:30 p.m.

7/2 JJ’s Cafe and Bar, Ybor 9:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m.

7/9 Green Iguana, Ybor 5-8 p.m.

7/9 JJ’s Cafe and Bar, Ybor 9:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m.

7/10 Green Iguana, Ybor 1-5 p.m.

7/13 Channelside Courtyard 4-8 p.m.

7/15 Centro Cantina, Ybor 9 p.m.-1 a.m.

7/16 Palm Pavilion, Clearwater 1-5 p.m.

7/16 JJ’s Cafe And Bar, Ybor 9:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m.

7/22 Green Iguana, Ybor 9 p.m.-1 a.m.

7/23 JJ’s Cafe And Bar, Ybor 9:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m.

7/24 Jannus Landing Rock for Research

7/30 Havana Room, St. Pete 10 p.m.-2 a.m.

If you can’t make it to one of those shows, you can find Ken every Sunday at TinaTapas in Channelside from 6 to 10 p.m..

Don’t let the contagious smile and the boyish charm fool you, Ken Apperson gets down to business. Call him, and he can make it juicy for ya. Yeah, I’ll take that cigarette now.

[To read at Creative Loafing, click here.]

peanut butter lover.

June 28, 2010

we’re all preparing for something “greater than.”

i feel like i’ve gone through a lot of changes in the past couple of years..thought i found myself when i was lost..thought i found a home when i was only renting one of those cheap motel rooms where you pay by the hour, and there are mysterious stains on the mattress, and the whole room smells like hot dogs. thought i found waldo, but it was really that other dude with the same sweater, minus the hat.

it’s starting to feel different. it’s starting to feel like i’m building a team. we’re all doing lunges and warming up our hammies so we don’t pull something. i feel like i’ve cut through the second-string and i’m running with the starting line-up.

it’s nice to feel..nice. furthermore, it’s nice to feel nice as myself – not a version of me, not me on my best-behavior, not me “lite.” just me. it’s nice to be around people who not only allow, but encourage that.

i don’t think most people really know what they’re looking for. sure, there are certain things that everyone aspires to have – friends, family, financial security, a vibrator that will bring you a post-coital sandwich, etc. – but i don’t think most people have any fucking clue what really makes them tick. people are so concerned with image and status that the shit that really makes their heart beat comes in second. fuck that. beat, i say. beat.

a change is a-comin’. and hopefully, if i’m lucky enough, i will be too..immediately followed by the delivery of a pb&j.

always read the fine print.

June 7, 2010

i’m too smart for this shit.

“thank you for calling rip-off cell phone accessory store/porn account management scam. how may i help you?”

i get paid to lie to people. i get paid to lie and/or be cursed out at any given moment. it really does a number on my psyche and overall positive attitude. i can’t stand lying. i’m not a liar. i’d rather tell the truth and be hated for it than lie just to appease people. but that’s what i do. i lie.

we sell these products for new and up-and-coming cell phones online. when we add a new phone to the accessory list, it’s usually somewhere between one and three months before we’ll ever even get the products in. well, people place orders right away thinking their product will ship out the next day. sometimes, if we already have the items in stock, this may actually be the case. this is like a one-in-twenty shot. if the phone or products haven’t been released yet, we will sometimes list an availability date beneath the product description. however, customers can order the product without ever having to see that date by clicking “add to cart” from the main menu. it’s deceptive, but it’s there. just as our “no refund on shipping costs” and “5% banking fee used to process refunds” is there in the terms and conditions. but who ever actually reads that shit?! i spend my days being someone who i hate.

furthermore, we receive our products directly from the manufacturer (whom we often undercut the price of). the manufacturer can change the availability date of any given product at any given time. okay, fine. but who gets the wrath of the angry customer when she or he has called three times about a cell phone case she or he ordered two months ago, has already been charged for, and has had the availability date changed three times for? the answer is me. my boss encourages us to “just tell them something.” meanwhile, he drives a mazaradi.

then there’s the porn thing. people sign up for a “free three-day trial” or a “$1.97 three-day trial” depending on how old their account is. i don’t necessarily feel as bad about this stuff, because if you’re going to enter your credit card number online to watch porn, you’re a fucking buffoon. um, hi. redtube. anyway, if they don’t cancel their account within the three-day trial period, their credit card will accrue monthly charges of either $44.93 or $39.97 on a monthly basis until the account is canceled. some people understand this concept and read all the fine print thoroughly, but most just want to get their spank on and overlook the details of our “trial membership.” i’ve had some people call that have had accounts with us for over a year and have never known it. oh, you want to be refunded for all of those months you never used the porn account you didn’t know you had? sorry. we can only issue up to three months of refunds. and that’s only in the case of identity theft or fraud. tell you what..i’ll give you one courtesy refund of the most recent charge. wow, i feel great about myself.

now we have this new thing. it’s this energy drink powder stuff. it’s disgusting. people sign up for a seven-day trial of it and receive seven packets of the powder. well, just like the porn thing, if they don’t cancel during the trial time, they’ll automatically become a member after the first seven days and be charged for, and shipped, 30 packets a month. i guess one would notice a 30-day supply of energy powder at her or his doorstep every month, so it’s not as slimy, but it’s still a scam. furthermore, we don’t even have this shit in stock yet. my boss tells me that if anyone calls asking about it, tell them it’s coming in tomorrow. if they call tomorrow, tell them it’s coming in the next day.

i need a shower to wash away all this shame.

i know it’s rough out there in this economy, and i do feel lucky that i even have a job, but it makes me sad to think that because money rules the fucking planet, people are forced to be pieces of shit. hooray! i can pay my rent and keep my lights on! sure, i have to be a complete asshole to do so..but at least we have dvr, right?

i am not anti-work. not in the slightest. i love to work. but i love doing work that helps rather than harms. i love doing work where i can express my creativity and use my brain. i love doing work where i can problem-solve and make people’s lives better. i don’t love doing work where i am a filthy, emotional punching bag.

i’ll leave that to the lawyers in the world.

A late-night encounter with TBPD: The ballad of the white lines

May 28, 2010

I was returning home to Ybor City when my drunk friend in the passenger seat, whom I was designated-driving, decided that she wanted pizza. Being a Saturday at 2 A.M. in Ybor, parking on the street was scarce. I had already looped around the block once, and was on my second go-round. Suddenly, I see a police officer following in my rear-view mirror. Being the cautious driver that I am, I already had my seat belt fastened and was obeying the speed limit. I tell my friend of the officer behind us. “Do you think he’s gonna pull us over?!” she asks frantically. “No. I’m not doing anything wrong,” I calmly reply.

I pull up to a red light where I need to make a right turn. Turn signal already on, I come to a complete stop where I remain for roughly four seconds for good measure. I know that the cops are looking for any reason to write tickets, and rolling through a red light was not going to be my demise. After my lengthy and pronounced stop, I make the right turn. One second later, there are red and blue flashing lights behind me.

What the fuck?!” rings in my head as I pull to the shoulder of the road. The police officer comes up, flashlight ablaze, and sticks his cop-face in the window. “License, registration and proof of insurance.” Seeing as how I was driving my friend’s car, I let her take care of the last two while I handed over my license. While she was rummaging through her glove compartment, Cop-Face starts shining his flashlight all in the car – mostly in the backseat. “What the fuck?!” is still on repeat as he takes the needed-information back to his car.

Seeing as how he never told me why he pulled me over, my mind is going a thousand miles an hour. We wait. And wait. And wait some more. Close to an hour passes before he returns. “Would you consent to a search?” he asks. My mind: “WTF?!” My mouth: “Uhhhh, sure. I mean, okay.” I didn’t understand this request, but I had nothing to hide, so of course I complied. “Step out of the car, ma’am,” Cop-Face instructs.

I get out. “Ms. Bishop, the reason why I pulled you over is because someone came up to me in the street and reported to me that you girls were doing cocaine at stoplights.”

My jaw drops.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, ma’am. And when something as serious as that is reported, we have to take all cautionary measures.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I’ve never done cocaine in my life, never even tried it, so the fact that this was happening was absolutely absurd. And even if I did do it, bumping lines down Seventh Avenue wouldn’t exactly be my setting-of-choice. Cop-Face instructs me to walk over to the sidewalk where a female officer was waiting to give me a frisking. I tell her how ridiculous this situation is, and she laughs as she gets to Second Base with me. She finds nothing on us. Cop-Face and his buddy find nothing in the car. Female Officer tells us not to worry, and that as soon as they tie up some loose ends in the Cop-Mobile, we’ll be free to go.

I thank the Universe and decide that this will be a funny story to tell the next day.

I get back in the driver’s seat and wait for Cop-Face to return with my ID. Thirty minutes pass before he shows back up.

“Alright, Ms. Bishop, I’m issuing you a traffic citation for stopping in front of the white line at the stoplight. Those lines are there for a reason, and you need to stop completely behind them.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Please sign at the bottom. You’re not admitting fault, you’re just saying that you received this citation. You can either pay the ticket or try to fight it in court. But I assure you, Ms. Bishop, if you try to fight it, I will be there and you will lose.”

“Well, how much is the ticket?”

“Two-hundred and sixteen dollars.”

Ahhhh, the post-nasal drip of Justice.

[to read at Creative Loafing, click here.]