Hugh Voltage Picture Party

Quick note: Is it shitty to put a Post-It note on the coffee pot at work that says "This coffee tastes like dog piss. If you would like to learn how to make a proper pot of coffee to share with your co-workers, please come by my office and I will show you how. The coffee that is in this pot is not even worthy of being poured out or served to cops or teachers. The pot with the coffee in it should be taken out of the office and driven to a landfill and never used again. You have ruined my morning. Thank you." It's a big Post-It.

When I'm not training to catch a predator, you may find me in dirty fucking watering holes taking in culture and seeing how the other half lives. When I'm not doing that, I'm doing a whole bunch of weird shit and sometimes I take pictures with my phone. They are all blurry and shitty, but I thought I'd post some of them and try and explain what and why. I had a picture of this girl that I'm not putting in here because that would be incriminating, but it's one of the best stories ever. EVAR. I'll just give up the punchline and spare the details. The night ended with me getting into an elevator at the Sheraton while smelling of booze and cigarettes and perspiration and looking at the dude next to me with his rollie luggage and discussing the drive to the airport at 6:30 in the morning. That's a rough night folks.


These first two pics are in the license plate category. The one on the left had me cracking up in the parking lot this morning as Canadian is the only real ethnicity that I can verify in my background. Drunken grandparents have called out Jewish and Italian and my last name sounds more like Saurbraten than anything else, yet it has actually been stolen by a certain individual that refuses to give it back to the chagrin of family members. Whatevs. It has become a joke amongst us that someone would voluntarily take that last name. I mean I could understand if your last name was Dickmouth or something; my last name would be an upgrade from that. Hey. at least it's not a hyphenation. Say this out loud and start laughing: "Hello. My name is Edward Dickmouth. Nice to meet you."

The pic on the right made me laugh because I, in fact, would rather be dancing. I should probably blur the license plate number out in case someone gets smart and looks it up. Whatever, we're in a police state anyway. Smile and accept your national ID program. I digress. My sister exchanged my Chico State Alumni license plate frame with one that says "I'd Rather Be Blading" at my mom's birthday about two years ago and then lost my license plate frame. So, my car still says I'd rather be blading. I could handle it if it said "I'd rather be fruitbooting," but I really need to do something about that. I always joke that I'm going to replace it with one that says "I'd rather be driving sober," but that might be a bad move.

Quick joke: What's the hardest part of rollerblading? Telling your dad that you're gay.

I'm a freak. I love candy corn and Starburst jellybeans. Those two substances are my anti-drug. I was sitting at my coffee table watching tv and eating my allotted handful of candy corn that constitutes one serving and is actually the RDA for predator hunters like me and it was Christmas time so I made a candy corn wreath. It's the predecessor to the Candy Corn on the Cob, which I'm still working on. I can't decide on what the core is going to be made out of. It's either got to be almond paste or marzipan. God, marzipan is more olde tymey than ribbon candy and that weird licorice candy that they have in Canada. Oh, also they have this weird raspberry candy that is kinda gooey in the middle. It somehow straddles the line between gross and delicious.

Ummm. I was cleaning and organizing my closet the other day and came across an unmarked box. I opened it and it was full of VHS porn. When the old lady and I separated I put most of the bottom drawer stuff in a box and duct taped it and disposed of it. The contents of that box did not need to be discovered by a hobo dumpster diver or little kids. It would amount to a life changing event and need to be reported to their healthcare provider. I will admit that there were a lot of cool if not super "we did that?" reminiscents related to that box. Oh, crap there was this one time that a good friend was over at the apartment and my ex's vibrator was on the dresser and he totally saw it and didn't say anything about it at first. It was kind of like getting caught masturbating by your mom. Not mine. Yours.

Anyway, the third in the finest pronographic series of all time. Taboo 3. It was kind of new wavey after Taboo 2, but still classic in many ways. Nothing will ever beat Taboo 2. It's the Zeppelin IV of porno movies. The quotes and the music are quintessential vernacular for pron.






So, while you wait in line for a prescription at Long's and you get off at 4:00 in the afternoon, you deal with octogenarians waiting for their pills. You know they are there when you drive into the parking lot because the fucking blue hairs can't get their Oldsmobiles in between the fucking lines. Then, you read this article that lets you know that men and women over 50 are banging each other and spreading tons and tons of STDs amongst each other because of shit like Viagra and Cialis. So, you figure out that these old ladies are waiting on Amoxicillin to get rid of their chlamydia that they all got from the same old fucker at the home who is senior citizen big pimpin'.

As disgusting as it sounds, I think when and if I cross that bridge, I want to be that dude, but without the STDs. Oh, so while I waited for my STD unrelated prescription (it was actually pills to make me less handsome because the doctor decided the intensity of my handsomeness could pose a danger to others), I browsed Long's and learned that you can use a hot water bottle as an enema bag and you can be a pirate for $3.59 + tax. Also, one size fits all. I think a funny name for an eye patch would be "Pirate Sunglasses." Um, also gotta award the ninjas a point in the area of depth perception in the ongoing saga of pirates vs. ninjas.





Okay. In my spare time I am also a champion of multiple co-ed recreation leagues. It's gotten to the point that in the morning on Saturdays and Sundays, I don't know which championship shirt to wear. Also, sometimes, late at night, I don't know which one to cleanup with after the magic happens. I have to come clean and admit that I have a preferred C-rag. If you don't know what that is, please feel free to e-mail me and I will explain the many uses of a shirt with a wolf on it from Montana that your grandma gave you.

It involves the part of porno movies that they don't show you. At the end of the six minute scene, all of that stuff all over that actress putting herself through college does not magically disappear and must be wiped away. It's the unsexy part of sexy, but very necessary. It's the untalked about thing. It's the cum rag. That spelling grosses me out. I had a girlfriend in high school that would always pass me notes written in a hot pink pen that used that spelling alot. It was like the slutty version of the British "OU." Examples being "humour,""tumour," and "rumour." I kinda suck at examples this morning, but could imagine an Australian saying "sumo" like this: "Sumer." They crack me up when they say "No" and it sounds like the "Noir" in film noir.





"Oh my god. Oh my god." That's what I sound like when people get on the subject of Minus the Bear. It's like Hanna Montana freak out for prepubescent girls. Ever since Menos El Oso, I've been totally gay for them. I even went to their last show by myself. It was like going to a movie by myself the first time. You kinda feel like a loser with no friends at first, but then you just become this silent observer of your surroundings and you'll be surprised at the stuff that you missed when you were with someone.

I even had an extra ticket that was earmarked for a girl that ended up getting hobo drunk and deciding that she hated me. It's the type of thing that months later everyone that had contact with her and you is like "I told you not to hang out with her. She's more of a mess than you."

Speaking of messes, I need to go on record and say that I miss the girl who took me wine tasting, put on porn with her friend there afterwards, told me she was crazy then suggested that we get naked, then napped, then took me out with her friends to a bar where she subtly tore her panties off and handed them to me and then made me sleep on her couch after I sang "I Want You To Want Me" with the cover band that was playing the bar. That all happened in a 24 hour period. I could've married that one. That was a catch. I think I'm into girls that will kill me while I sleep. I should get that checked out.

Anyway, that's Dave Knudson's pedal board. Four Line 6 delay modelers? Are you crazy? One more and he would have a time machine on his hands. Also, love the Whammy pedal in there. That is music gadget pron in that picture.

I've got a picture of me riding a Segway that I'm not going to post because I like to keep it a little anonymous and don't need to be putting too much of my face on the InterTubes. I will say, however, that it was like fucking a fat girl. It was hella fun, but you don't want your friends to find out about it. Oh, I also got chlamydia from it.

I'm just going to end this by saying a) microwave popcorn will give you cancer b) you shouldn't be eating fucking microwave popcorn at 10:30 in the morning, if at all c) it smells like urine. Feel free to use c) as a first or last line in a haiku.

Wait, here it is:

Microwave popcorn
It will likely cause cancer
It smells like urine

Hughvoltage is full service. I'll even write the haikus for you.

Note: Somebody found the blog by searching the words "Beef Penis." I might be going out on a limb, but what a good band name that would be. I would also like to add that a scotch drunk hangover makes you feel like you are invisible at work the next day. It's really weird, but kinda awesome.