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This is what an ounce of high-quality oregano looks like. The perfect seasoning, guaranteed to make any meal taste better.

I’m not sure if this diptych, such that it is, is an example of a parallel or a juxtaposition. It’s up for interpretation, I suppose.

Antique depiction of Death, via Wikipedia - cheapened by you know who

Think of it as sort of a “choose your own adventure” for hobby photography. I respect my readership, I’ll let you figure things out for yourselves. Not trying to beat anybody over the head here… that’s what the wee- oregano is for.

You see, the oregano is for my family-owned authentic pizzeria. We buy in bulk. And our pies are so good, it’s like getting kicked in the head! Who doesn’t like pizza? And what’s better than getting kicked in the head? I mean come on.

It’s a commonly-known law of physics that skateboards are chemically attracted to water. And during the 11 and a half month long winter in Chicago, where water in both its solid and liquid forms is quite prevalent, that can be a problem for those of us who treat skateboarding as more than just a seasonal activity, but a lifelong quest to remain a Toys ‘R’ Us kid.

But, as with most things in life, you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re afraid to get your feet wet. You don’t have to love skateboarding in the slop, slush and salt, but you do have to love skateboarding enough to keep skating in the slop, slush and salt.

Skateboards are meant to be broken — it’s their ultimate purpose. Whether it’s a poorly-landed heelflip, or rust and water damage that finally does it is not important. What is important is that you don’t let the winter break skateboarding for you.

One of my cacti is quickly headed to the great desert in the sky… look, don’t try to understand. It’s like losing a member of the family. The Chicago winter has been most unkind to it, and for that… I will have my revenge.

But, look! The circle of life! Death is not an end… it’s merely a rearrangement of energy… or some shit. The first sprouts have… uh… sprouted, as it were, from a couple of leaves that fell off one of my Jade plants. Their fruit is the ornamental stone of the same name. Seriously. Try garnishing a salad with some, your guests will just die!

I find it so fascinating how Jade and other succulents (freaky cousins of cacti) don’t have seeds, but instead grow new plants from fallen leaves or cuttings. It’s almost like they’re from outer space or something.

If Chicago is hell (and it very well could be), then it has officially frozen over.

I thought the lake looked eerily foreign the last time I went over there, but as the weeks passed and winter showed no sign of relenting, the beach practically turned into a replica of Pluto. And that’s kind of cool, since I heard it’s really expensive to go vacationing there this time of year.

I ran into a longtime Chicago resident out there who said he hasn’t seen the lake this iced over since the mid 80s. WTF global warming amiright lolol

Indeed, the lake is downright arctic right now. And about as dangerous as an expedition to the real thing, too. Its frozen depths nearly claimed my real dedleg right here.

Check out how far past the piers the snow and ice stretch — most of the year that’s all liquid water. Both of these shots were taken considerably past the shore. There is no sand underneath all that ice — just a frigid, watery grave. In some spots the ice is thicker than a concrete wall, and three steps later it’s far too thin to support any weight. As you just saw I was lucky enough to discover that first hand.

As I’ve already noted… the terrain out there was fucking treacherous. Coming down a frozen hill, I had to go into a controlled slide. All my survival training is finally paying off. I decided not to include any photos of me drinking my own urine or eating maggots I found in a rotting polar bear carcass, but I’m good at that shit too. 

This pile of metal… shit had been almost completely consumed by snow. The waves that normally crash against it all day slowly built up, freezing and thawing and freezing again, until it resembled a set piece from fucking Hoth. Fortunately, there were no Bantha sightings.

The East Coast might be getting all the blizzards this year, but Chicago’s winters are never to be outdone. There might not be 20 inches of snow on the ground in the middle of the city, but it’s been cold enough to freeze a lake nearly the size of West Virginia. Which is just a few notches below “cold enough to freeze your boogers,” for anybody out there who wants to get technical.

My friends and I get into some weird shit on the weekends.

Now, doesn’t that look like more fun than barfing into your lap at 3 am? And I mean, we do that too.

I could say it’s supposed to be a statement about how many spines are broken every year in drunk-driving related accidents, but that would be a lie. It’s more like a statement about how many “sculptures” using spines are made every year as a result of drunk-decision-making.

And yes, those are real vertebrae. From a real human. Don’t worry… he won’t need them where he’s going. There’s not too much moving around to be had in a pine box, nah’mean?

How much time did you waste as a child doing the right eye / left eye thing? That couldn’t have been just me.

Speaking of which… Ocular Dominance would be a great name for a metal band. The best part is, it’s kind of ironic, since no matter what eye you have open, you can’t see too much when you’re headbanging your mystical metal wizard locks around. And I think in the metal world, irony is cooler than studded bracelets but less cool than stonewash denim jackets. These are merely my conclusions after some cursory fieldwork — I’m hardly an expert. I just come up with totally kickass band names. And I’m not too bad with logos, either.

Obviously, their debut record would have to be a concept album based on The Lord Of The Rings, told through the perspective of Sauron’s all-seeing eye.

Other band names, metal or otherwise, that I coined and are now floating in the abyss of forgotten ideas:

Hotdog High Five, Cat Diary, Trigonometry Dog, Kaleidoscope of Pain, Metal Fatigue, Tenderball, Space Matter, Fleeting Pleasantries, Double Meat, Travesties of Fabric 

Please call my attorney for licensing information.

Or perhaps just mouthwatering samples to get you craving for the next one already.

I like to keep it green. It’s good for the environment, and it’s good for making art. And I’m talking about two things at once!

But man can not live on herbs and beer alone — that’s what Party Party Party Mix is for. You can’t see the label in the photo, but that’s actually what it’s called. It includes off-brand Cheetos — I think that’s what warrants the extra “Party Party” preceding “Party Mix.”

This was a scattered post, but I’m kind of a scatter-brained type of dude. Figure that one out.

Here’s a recent photo of Pat McGee, one time national girls’ champion skateboarder — back in the long lost days before skateboarding was a total sausage fest. She’s holding a couple of magazines that featured her on the cover, including the May 14^th 1965 issue of LIFE, which actually happens to be the first magazine to ever cover skateboarding.

The issue focused on “the craze and menace of skateboarding.” And god knows I love me some menace, so I went and put that shit on my wall.

Although it was the first to address the topic, LIFE might not have done it best. The tone of the article is skeptical to say the least, more in-line with how a modern-day blogger might write of UGG Boots or Lady Gaga’s fictitious testicles. The very first sentence of the article comes off like an introduction to a lousy PSA:

That thing 19 year-old Pat McGee is balancing on is a skateboard, the most exhilarating and dangerous joy-riding device this side of the hot rod. 

Of course, this hostile tone that remains throughout the article only makes it that much more hilarious. Such is the case with this brief anecdote about a victim of an ill-fated skateboarding experiment:

It reminded Mrs. Greer of a roller coaster and gave her “a very free kind of feeling, but if Peter had let go of me, I think I would have died.” She was luckier than a California woman who tried her son’s board and got going too fast. She landed on both elbows and now has one arm in a sling, the other in a cast. 

I’ll never understand this type of resentment toward an activity whose injuries are entirely limited to those participating in said activity. If you don’t want to get hurt, don’t go skateboarding, bitch. It’s part of the fun. Bob Muller must have felt similar confusion, as he wrote a letter to the editor in response to the article, which was published three weeks later:

So what if we get a few broken bones, scraped knees and lumpy heads. They’re our bones, knees and heads. 

My feelings exactly. Now get out there and bruise something, already.

Just think about it. Or, I guess, let the post’s tags do all the thinking for you.

Great song too, b-t-dubs.

Welcome to the happy world of Haribo.

A couple of the very few things I can think of that smell kinda like dookie but actually taste pretty great.

#TwoGirlsOneCup #JustKidding

By the way, I apologize for just doing that. The whole thing.

Also — Gold Bears?! What kind of fucking name is that? None of them are even gold! Yellow, I guess… still not really gold though. Makes no sense. Well, I guess except for the bear part.

Long weekend, fuckers!