Friday, April 30, 2004

I figured it out

Now I know how Rusty and I can be together, and not have to work, and still finance our extravagant travels to Disneyworld, and our 20th floors stays in fancy hotels, and our plasma televisions, and our fancy computers with huge monitors and broadband internet access: Rusty will publish a How-To self help book about curing depression by placing odd objects on your head. I can illustrate it with my bumble-glyphs. See here:

It will be a national sensation. We will be guests on Dr. Phil and he will say, "I'm just a country boy from Texas. How's that depression workin' for ya? Take this basket, you damn basket case."

(Dr. Phil sounds kind of like Foghorn leghorn from Looney Tunes -- did you ever notice that?)

So tomorrow morning Rusty gets in his Corolla and starts heading on home to Mississip'. He'll be here Sunday. This brings me the glory. I don't need to put baskets on my head when Rusty's around. I'm trying to finish my papers before he gets here. I have three pages left on one, and 15 left on the other. Cheer me on, gloryreaders.

And welcome to our googler for "gas station gloryholes."

When You Need It, Here It Is

When Feeling Blue

Ingredients: The biggest clothes basket you can find. A small one will do also, depending on how you actually feel.

1. Take a clothes basket. Put it over your head. If it's big enough, you can crouch on the floor and actually kind of get under it (I can do that pretty good). If it's smaller, just put it over your head.

2. Just do whatever after that. Watch TV, just sit in silence, whatever. The clothes basket will make you feel secure.

When Needing To Feel Like All Is Right in the World

Ingredients: Mostly-eaten largish bag of potato chips. Scissors.

The bag can be all eaten if it needs to be, but the initial (though not final) reason for doing what you're doing is because it's partially eaten. See, when you have a big bag of potato chips, sometimes you can't get to the bottom too good, so the thing to do is cut the top off neatly with scissors, so you have a smaller bag. You're left with this ring from where the top part was. Therefore...

1. Cut top part of mostly-eaten bag of potato chips. You are left with a ring.

2. Wear the ring on your head. Something about it being there will make you so happy.

Share and enjoy!

Thursday, April 29, 2004

See, people, that's the way to comment.

Thanks to Jason and Lori.

It's true that I sometimes don't respond well to requested aliens. Once Paula asked me to draw a lady alien with water and a sailboat in the background, and to put them on t-shirts for her lady sailboat racing team. Well, I struggled and struggled to draw that damn sailboat. Setting is a problem for me since when I sit down to draw, all that comes out are bumble-glyphs. Really. I draw absolutely nothing else. So I finally got it done, and thought it was just mediocre, and maybe even a little retarded, compared to what I normally do, and I showed her, and she said. "Great! Can you give her wings?" At that point, it started to seem like work so I told her to forget it. It was a bad time for bumble-glyphs.

A week later my sweet friend Kristina (who famously sings "Our Hurricane") asked me to do shirts for her entire wedding party so that they could wear them at her wedding rehearsal. She wanted little girl aliens holding signs that said, "Flower girl," or lady aliens holding up "Mother of the Bride," etc. I had to tell her no, mostly because the prospect of having like two weeks to draw ten perfect aliens and make ten shirts seemed like too much work. If there's anything I don't want my bumble-glyphs to be, it's work. (Since I started graduate school, that's what has happened for me and story writing and I hate writing because something's due rather than because I felt something, or had a sentence stuck in my head, and started typing. It's the pressure, I guess.)

It's not the way that Rusty put it -- that I consider the aliens mine and don't want to have to incorporate other people's requests or be an art prostitute. It's that other people's requests are often things I don't feel I can do. I have a limited range of skill. Basically I can draw confused creatures that spring out of the folds of my brain without me thinking about it. And I am sort of a perfectionist with a lot of things so it disrupts me when I am trying to do something and failing at it. Which is why I haven't drawn the famous Pia, even though I want to (and, Pia, I don't know how to make a screen saver). Drawing aliens that look like Lori and Ted seems like it might be hard for me, especially since I've never seen either of you. And also because most of my drawings are just whatever comes out of me, not designed to look like anyone in particular. A lot resemble me, but that almost seems like an unconscious accident. Once I drew my friends Amy and Nathan and it looks just like them, but no one asked me to and it just sprang out of me. Also, my friend Amy has that confused, earnest quality that my aliens all have.

But. I want Lori the white witch to like me because I am a girl and it's important to me that everyone likes me. And because everything I've heard about Lori seems cool. (And, no, Lori, you're not a cocktease. Only Rub-a-dub is.) So I will promise that I will *try* to draw her and Ted. And I would be honored to have my drawing on the door to the church. But I can't promise that it will work out.

Here is a Google image search I recommend.

And, yes, Rusty, you're handsome.

Lori Rhymes with Glory

I wonder if Charles Schulz ever drew a perfect Peanuts cartoon (something he did at least once a month from my estimation) and then just totally blinked out of existence for a few hours as a reward.

I wonder if Cathy Guisewite, author of "Cathy," instead exists all over the place.

I'll answer questions and comments directed at Carrie from Lori, since Carrie's asleep:

1. Least confused, not least confusing. The idea is that all of her characters look confused, so which one looks the least that way.

2a. I know that Carrie doesn't respond well to requested aliens. I requested one for my album cover, but it worked because all I said was "one of your aliens." The minute you get more specific than that, Carrie gets all frantic and protective. You can't say "Can mine be driving a car?" or "Can mine look like George W. Bush?" or "Can you make mine have my sorority colors?" I think the word mine is the problem, since the aliens are hers and come out of her innards in some mystical way.

2b. Yes, she does get lots of requests.

2c. And yet, having said all that, I'll let Carrie actually answer the alien wedding question.

I, on the other hand, am an art prostitute. I'll do it just how you like it, baby.

I don't mind the silence. A comment or two on occasion is nice, but mostly I'm just Depeche Mode. Look at my picture. Man, I'm handsome.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

An Open Letter to the Readers of the GLORY!blog

Dear readers:

I'm sorry for the mess that Rusty posted last night. I don't know why he thought that it was appropriate for him to flip the bird to you. We wanted the GLORY!blog to be a place where you felt safe, away from the problems of the world, and now we have let you down. Maybe it began when Rusty took issue with me. We started heading down the wrong path. I can't say what went wrong. Maybe Rusty didn't spend enough time listening to our inspirational song. Maybe he's been away from home for too long. Maybe he spent too much time at the Wal-Mart instead of the H.E.B, or ate too many Lean Cuisine chicken dinners. Or Tommy "Sweet Tat" Burton might have influenced him. I can't say. All I can say is that Rusty made an error in judgement. But I ask you to forgive him. It might not be his fault; he is a cocktease, after all.

However, I can say that you are not encouraging us to keep up the glory. Perhaps this is the reason for Rusty's lapse in judgement. We ask you for comments and we receive mostly silence. I ask for your votes about which of my drawings seems the least confused and, again, I received silence. Why can't you all be more like Pia? We love Pia. She eats perfect food and writes perfect sentences. Or you could even be like Chair Chair who gives us comment L-U-V. Or Sean Carman, who wrote a review of the GLORY! and used the word "pithy." But why the silence? Why, gloryreaders, why?

In solidarity,


Issues of Blood

There was this thing Carrie said about us going to Disney World so we could take pictures and have stories for this page. Yeah, that's all bullshit. We're doing it for us. I won't be giving two shits for any readers of the GLORY!blog while I'm looking at Cinderella's Castle. In fact, I'll go ahead and send the readers of this blog a message in advance:

Sorry. That's just the way it is. Really I can't speak for Carrie, of course. That's just my personal feeling. I have my own way of making life happy. And as far as loving you guys, I love maybe two of you: I don't know most of the rest. There are 812 hits on the counter right now; I'm not sure if those are unique hits or individual loads (huh huh), but it's a lot of folks looking at us for a month and a half.

Thing is, we will have fun stories and fun pictures (for other fun pictures of Disney World to hold you over, be sure to look here), and we do hope you will enjoy them when we get back, but I personally didn't want you to be under any false impression.

For additional goodness, go here. It's Louis C.K.'s web journal from when he went cross-country in a rented Navigator so his dog wouldn't have to fly. Well worth anyone's reading time. Skip one of your normal blogs to read this. You'll be a better person for it.

Monday, April 26, 2004

Vague Hints Made Less Vague

Rusty's coming to Hattiesburg, yo. He finishes teaching the children this week and then will be on his way. I'll still be working until May 12th, but Rusty can sit on the couch and play and I can take some glory breaks. The plan is to write thirty pages worth of literary junk this week so that when Rusty comes, I'll only have to grade papers, take an exam, and calculate final grades. Glory!

We'll be eating sandwiches at Sweet Peppers Deli, where we get our sandwich needs taken care of. We will travel to Jackson to hate on Tommy. We will post Carrie-Rusty comments to the GLORY!blog....

And once we've done all that and I'm finally untethered to USM, we're gonna get in the Jetta and drive to my hometown which, contrary to popular thought, isn't in Connecticut or Rhode Island, but is in Miami. Rusty will meet the glory that is my parents. Mary Hoffman will dote on him and bring him toast and fruit or pancakes or eggs or fresh bagels when he wakes up. She'll ask me ahead of time what he likes and then she'll have it for him, magically and perfectly presented. Leonard Hoffman will tell long boring stories. I'll show him childhood photos and videos. And maybe Mary Hoffman will throw a party and he'll even get to meet the extended remix family of cousins and grandmothers and aunts and uncles. There's a lot of us Hoffmans.

Then we head back to Hattiesburg, but wait! We've planned a carefully calculated 3 night stop in Orlando where we intend to spread our glory all over the happiest place on Earth. We got ourselves the 4-day Park Hopper passes so we can go to any park we want on any day. And we're staying in a hotel on the Disney grounds. That means we're fancy. But you already know that, being a loyal GLORY!blog reader and all.

What you may not realize is that we're doing this not only for our own gratification, but also for yours. We recognize that you need adorable photos and stories and we are heading to Disneyworld in order to provide them for you. We plan our lives around this need. We love you. We really really love you.

Then back to Haggis McBurgis for both of us, where we will rest and relax before Rusty heads back to Texas to be Dr. Spell and I have to stay in Iceburg Lettuce to learn French and clicky clicky for the children in my online class.

Last night I dreamt that people were writing poetry about us and posting them as comments on the GLORY!blog so hop to it, readers.

Vague Hints of Future Glory

* Gulch.
* Sweet Meats.
* Turning in grades.
* Videos.
* Commentaries.
* Han Solos.
* Possible Explosions.
* Miami.
* Parents.
* Hotels.
* Disney.
* Buffer time.


Saturday, April 24, 2004

American GLORY!

Why will no one vote on which of my drawings seems the least confused? The lack of response hurts my delicate feelings.

Click here for an MP3 of a song called "Jenny" that Rusty and I did for the Mnemonic Devices album he released back in the olden days of 2002. Once in class, the famous FBX skipped through all the tracks after Rusty delivered some albums to school. This is the only song he listened to all the way through.

I have lots more to say about Rusty's shoes. A little known detail about his shoes is that . . . just kidding. I think we're finally done with the shoe discussion.

And the glory keeps on comin'...

Once More on the Shoes

I forgot to mention that Tommy and Sean "Mick Avory" Sloan made a short film called "Rusty's Shoes" in which my slip-ins were murderous shoes that were eventually burned in a fireplace. That's how I chose to dispose of them when I got a new pair.

A Bunch of Songs

Some songs for you guys to listen to at work:

Girls With Attitude: Don't Judge Me -- "I know that I don't know what you feel like inside, and the same goes to you. So I don't want you near me. You just judge a book by its cover, or -- in this case -- by me."

Girls With Attitude: When You Do This To Me -- Why aren't you like the rest of the boys?

Girls With Attitude: Nothing In My Dreams -- Not even a little puppy.

Girls With Attitude: You Know -- You know you know.

Girls With Attitude: A Fun Time Is a Great Time -- Just you and me.

Bill Cosby: Dope Pusher -- Bill Cosby has made a career out of lecturing entertainingly.

The Strawberry Explosion: Then He Kissed Me -- If you were too lazy to go over to my Online Mix Tape. Be like Rie and get this stuck in your head.

That's all you get, turdburglars.

Carrie's Thesis

Peace out, yo.

Friday, April 23, 2004

One Time for the People

Clarification on Rusty's shoes

These are the infamous shoes to your left. I feel I need to clarify because although Rusty understands that I like his shoes, others did not seem to understand what I said. My response was to the hip shoes on the Christina Ricci poster and how odd it was to see hip shoes on Rusty because normally he wears these "Sunday school slip ins" and the adjective "hip" does not describe them. To say that Rusty's shoes are not hip is not to say, "I dislike Rusty's shoes." Or, "Ugh, Rusty, your shoes disgust me. Other boys don't wear those shoes, only you do. Why can't you be more like other boys?" Hip does not equal "what Carrie wants." In fact, hip often equals "what Carrie decidedly does not want." I like Rusty's shoes because they are somehow Rusty-like, and I like anything that captures the essence of him. I even wear a similar pair on occasion. Look at us here, for example; our shoes match, black with rubbery soles.

Stoolovich's Ladyfriend

Should give us her own comments and share her personal glory. Once I sat in an office and held her chihuahua puppy while it shook in fear.


We need more of these. We like to receive GLORY! in return. And to know that you are receiving our GLORY! Comment! In the words of the famous Angela Ball, "More! Different!"


No one besides Rusty has voted on the relative confusion of my alien bumblebee heiroglyphs. Please to vote soon. I've even added new ones. Vote now!

One More Dickface of the GLORY!blog
A technological dickface, the SOAR system used at USM to enroll in classes. SOAR does not bring me any glory at all.

Thursday, April 22, 2004


Shoes, Wardrobe

There's probably nothing wrong with my shoes, but "a big deal" has been made of my shoes over the past ten years or so. It was around ten years ago that I decided the shoes that make me happiest are black soft slip-ins... when I was a kid we might have called them "Sunday Shoes," but they're not as shiny as that phrase implies.

They make me happy because they're easy to get in and out of, they're comfortable, they match with everything, they don't look too dressy to wear on random days but don't look to un-dressy to wear with dressier stuff... and I think they just look fine with most of the stuff I wear.

But I don't wear much of any other shoe (I have a few more, but wear something different maybe once every two months), so I guess that's what causes "problems." I've also perfected the specific type of black slip in. Used to they would be worn thin pretty quickly, but now I've found a kind with a hard rubbery sole and it seems to last forever.

I, too, have a hard rubbery soul that seems to last forever.

I personally think they're hip enough. I don't actually know what would qualify as "hip shoes." When asked what my style of wardrobe is, Carrie responded, "Innofensive."

Here in the Rio Grande Valley, however, my appearance stands out for many reasons. I'm taller than everyone, whiter than everyone, and my wardrobe is way different. Everyone essentially dresses the same, and I don't dress like them. So maybe I'm eccentric around these'm parts.

Stoolovich's Ladyfriend

Hello to Mr. Stoolovich's ladyfriend from me too, though there were several cases when I said "hello" to Mr. Stoolovich's ladyfriend in person and Mr. Stoolovich's ladyfriend gave me one of these:


* a graphic meant to represent a more or less non-responsive glancing at then looking away from my smiling self, making me wonder if I did something wrong or if I were wearing offensive shoes

Modest Mouse

They have a commercial for the new Modest Mouse record now on TV. It's a Target commercial as well... "now available at Target." If I were young and stupid I could complain about them "selling out," but as it is, the commercial makes me really happy. I feel a certain victory when my guys make it big. (Or bigger than usual.)

For the record, I still prefer the correct version of the lyric: "Hey, boy, get a sweater." But I won't take issue in the place of glory.

As If I'm a Commenter, and Not the GLORY!blog Postmaster General

1. I like anything by Rusty Spell.
2. I never see my blue eyes.
3. That's me on the elephant. Practicing to be a young Republican.
4. Gloryholes?
5. Bathroom stalls?
6. "They call me Mack Rapalicious."
7. Because he likes Masked and Anonymous.
8. I like anything by Rusty Spell.
9. That's the Nikon girl in the sunglasses.
10. I'm ready for my graphic novel in spring of 2005.
11. Where is it even at?
12. Tommy likes tubing. Butt-tubes.
13. Overkill? What? No way.
14. I like anything by Rusty Spell
15. I'm both.
16. Rusty was making up a story about how her dad met her mom, and Carrie was yelling over Rusty trying to tell the real story. Something about folding clothes.


This guy is the least confused says me, but don't let me influence everyone else.


Dickfaces of the GLORY!blog


1. John "I Traded My Soul for a Hounddog Face" Kerry
2. Condoleezza "Evil Brown Sugar" Rice
3. Donald "My Words Vomit Turds" Rumsfeld
4. Jerry "The Religious Go-To" Falwell
5. Pat "The Other Religious Go-To, Had a Creepy Sweater Phase" Robertson
6. Snoopy Doggy "Nothing More Than a Parody of Himself Bojangles for the White Man" Dog
7. Anna Nicole "Not as Fat but Still a Bitch" Smith
8. Tommy "God We Hate Him So Much!" Burton*
9. Dolly "Just Kidding, Everyone Loves Dolly" Parton

* Hey, Tommy, we're sorry about that whole "Dickfaces of the GLORY!blog" thing. We did't really mean it.

... And Finally

Click here for vague fun.

Tubby Flubs.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

No, Rusty, your shoes aren't hip. But they are inoffensive.

Oh, I thought Chair Chair liked us and then I was confused by his comment because it seemed like a parody with all of those exclamation points. I guess I just have to realize that we bring the genuineness and the exclamation points. Hello to Mr. Stoolovich's ladyfriend. I also too noticed that Chair Chair likes the Modest Mouse. We like them very kindly. They are a Rusty-Carrie band. Here is a link to an MP3 of their song "Tiny Cities Made of Ashes," a song about drinking Coca-Cola. And there's not much that can be more Rusty-Carrie than that. We like to sing this song while driving. I like to mishear the lyrics and sing, "Hey, boy, guess what" instead of "Hey, boy, get a sweater." Once Rusty corrected me, but now I think he's converted to my version of the lyrics.

Rusty's cartoon of me slurping is pretty surreal. I'm glad I have jaundice.

Also, I don't think I understand Tommy's plans regarding comments to the GLORY!blog. Will he comment or not? When will the mystery end? Will I always be in suspense?

In an effort to get more comments on the GLORY!blog, I am going to give some potential topics to our readers. If you like us and want to post, we might be interested in hearing your thoughts on the following:

(1) any of the songs we've linked to
(2) Rusty's blue eyes
(3) photos and their cuteness
(4) how you can bring us the glory
(5) other places where you find the glory in life
(6) phrases you like to say
(7) why you hate Tommy Burton
(8) The Strawberry Explosion
(9) babies in sunglasses
(10) Rusty's cartoons
(11) the gerbage
(12) tubing
(13) mirror photos
(14) tell us about you
(15) tell our readers whether you're a Rusty person or a Carrie person or both
(16) tell a story that captures the essence of Rusty or Carrie or Rusty and Carrie.

Also, I am taking a vote: Which of my drawings seems the least confused by life? You can vote by comment or by sending me an e-mail. Results will be announced here on the GLORY!blog.

Love in an elevator,


Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Rubby Bulbs, and for to have him write.

I knew "Chair Chair" wasn't making fun of us. I read about somewhere he likes Modest Mouse quite well, so he's okay in my book.

Googlers for Modest Mouse, welcome.

You hit the ball in the dragon's mouth and it comes out of its butt.

My shoes aren't hip?

So what you guys really want to see is the further adventures of "Carrie," the comic strip that is taking the world by storm. Well, wait no more:

There. I did it. Look for my graphic novel in the spring of 2005.

So, you know, everyone who reads this should leave a comment. Just so we'll know. Oh, and... maybe Tommy should clear something up. Some people thought that when he wrote that thing about he wasn't going to post here that he was making some sort of joke. But, in fact, he was actually telling us that he had no intention of commenting and indeed would not. I thought he made it clear in his comment, but I guess some people missed it. So, Tommy, if you want to drop these dumb guys another line, just to let them know you're serious.

Look how cute this girl is. I mean seriously.

luv luv luv.
rubby bulbs.

Monday, April 19, 2004

Is Chair Chair Stoolovich making fun of the glory?

Here's an MP3 of a Rusty-Carrie song called Cutest Lil' Dragon by the Danielson Familie. That's Rusty to your left with the dragon at the mini-golf place we went to in Gulfport. You had to hit the ball through the dragon mouth. Rusty beat me at the mini-golf that night. And then he did better than me at the casinos, even though I was gambling his money.

Rusty is perhaps a meditation on rectangles. He has a very rectangular face, long legs and arms. Look at his jaw in that photo. And he's got rectangular glasses. It was weird to see his head on that hipster body in the Christina Ricci poster. The hipster body was not particularly rectangular; it was sort of a baggy saggy body with no edges. The thing about Rusty is that he has edges -- his wrist bone sticks out sharply. And there were those those non-Rusty sneakers on the hipster body. I'm not sure what I would do if Rusty all of the sudden started wearing hip shoes.

I am not a meditation on any particular shape, I don't think. Sometimes my shoes are hip.

Sunday, April 18, 2004

Well-Rounded Doo-Wop


I have to admit that all last night I was dreaming of Christina Ricci. Carrie may now say "Boo!" She says that. It's her thing.

It wasn't a sexy dream. It was more a meditation on roundness. I normally sleep ten to twelve hours on weekends to catch up on my sleep, but I only slept six last night and woke up more refreshed than usual. Dreams are therapy.

I realize I suck at the GLORY!blog sometimes. I don't win the GLORY!blog award. Carrie does: she gets two comments for one post. I don't always bring the glory, just talk out of my butt-plug like I always do. I basically provide roughage. You don't need to eat sugar all the time, I guess.

Christinia Ricci is a meditation on circles. Even more than Mickey Mouse. Spheres colliding. If anyone understands what the hell I'm talking about or how this collission of bodily circles can provide perfect sleep, you can comment, so I can win the prize.


Soon we'll know if The Strawberry Explosion will actually make any originals, or if we'll just cover doo-wop songs. I was attempting to play the song Carrie wrote, "Kissy Kissy," once in front of her and all I got was frowns. I had to explain that songs didn't instantaneously burst out perfect right away, especially when being strummed sloppily on an acoustic. So I'll have to make the song behind her back and then present it when it's nice and doo-woppy. That's kind of what I had to do for "Then He Kissed Me" too, even though it had its own built-in doo-woppiness being Phil Spector and all.

Then I stood behind Carrie and read over her shoulder while she wrote a story. I kept saying "Ug, do it right," then grabbed her fingers and said, "No, like this. Why can't you be more like Michael? Why, Tito, why?"

I am a bastard who licks his own brown.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

I dreamt about Rusty all night last night and I wish he were closer.

Once Rusty sent me a package that had twenty-seven of these stamps scattered all over the box. Once he sent me a package and on the thingey you pull to open the envelope, he wrote, "Pull the love tab." Sometimes Rusty is too far away.

Here is a clip of a song called "Lovey Dovey" by Buddy Knox. Here is a short clip of the original version by The Clovers. These are the full lyrics:

Lovey Dovey

Bop Bop a chu de Bopa
Bop Bop a chu de Bopa
Bop Bop a chu de Bopa

Well you're the cutest thing that I did ever see
I really love your features won't you come with me
Lovey dovey,lovey dovey all the time
Yeah,lovey dovey I can't get you outa my mind

Well every time you kiss me you just thrill me so
Never, never, never,never let me go whoa baby
Lovey dovey all the time,yeah lovey dovey,
I can't get you outta my mind

Oh Well I sigh with a feelin when you're near me
I'm high as the ceilin',Oh baby hear me cause
I'm sayin' that I love you,placed not above you
give me love pretty mama

I can't wait because my love is comin' down (1)
and I feel the mood,for you my darlin I would
break my mama's rule lovey dovey,lovey dovey
all the time,yeah,lovey dovey,I can't get you outa
my mind

Bop Bop a chu de bopa,Bop Bop a chu de bopa
Bop bop a chu de bopa
The kiss that I'm stealin has got me fallin
my head is rockin my heart is rollin baby
never leave me, please don't deceive me give
me love pretty mama

I can't wait because my love is comin down
and I feel the mood,for you my darlin I would
break my mama's rule lovey dovey,lovey dovey
all the time oh lovey dovey, I can't get you
outta my mind.

I'm thinking "Lovey Dovey" might be an eventual Strawberry Explosion single.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Bringing Back Glory for Baby

Lovey? Lovey lovey love. Love love love. Also, love. Lovey love. Lovey lovey lovey. Lovey... and also dovey. Lovey dovey love. Pe pa po po pe pa pa po po. One time for the people, one time for the people. One time for the people, one time for the people.

I love Carrie.

Thursday, April 15, 2004

An Cartoon Explaining Recent Occurrences on the GLORY!blog

In other news, Rusty gets a month off between spring teaching and summer teaching and guess where he'll be?

Rusty looks good in blue. He has a freckle on his hand.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Issues, and for to Take Them

1. I'm not sure my comic needed translation. I thought it made enough sense by itself. I didn't mean it as an inside joke, just a comic. Man oh.

2. I'm pretty sure I was on the left side. Yes, I was in fact.

3. I didn't say "This place is fucked up!" I said, "This place is fucked up." It was loud enough for her to hear, but it was still an "aside" and it it wasn't yelled. Look at the illustration.

There. That's all I have issue with.

Here's another comic. I assure you, it needs no explanation:

Go to my online mix tape to listen to The Fiery Furnaces' "Tropical Ice-Land," the single version. It's a winter hit!

Googlers, welcome.

I'm going to watch all kinds of movies now. Carrie is pretty.

Coke, Dr. Pepper, and Spree

Now that Rusty translated Sean's comment, I guess I have to translate Rusty's drawing for you. Rusty likes to give inside jokes with no context. Here's the context behind his illustrated highlight:

Blue For Boys Panel One:
We stopped at a gas station on the way from Edinburg to San Antonio, and after Rusty was done pumping gas like a man, we went inside the convenience store for treats. I bought a Coke for myself and a Dr. Pepper and Spree for Rusty because sometimes I like to be the man. (Contrary to the illustration, I was on the left and Rusty was on the right). While ringing us up, the Mexican lady behind the counter was also talking on the phone, answering a question from the other cashier, and writing something on the check that the guy in front of us had given her. After she scanned our soda and candy, she looked at me for the $ and I hadn't heard her say the total so I leaned in and said, "How much?"

Pink Where It Counts Panel Two:
In response, she turns into a demon and yells, "TWO EIGHTY, MAMA!"

Jaundice Panel Three:
I was a little confused at being yelled at so I turned to Rusty as if to ask, "I am a five foot tall white girl in a powder blue t-shirt that says 'Honey Bunny' and all I am doing is buying candy and soda and why am I getting yelled at?" And Rusty said, in response to my confusion, "This place is fucked up!" in a voice loud enough for the cashier to overhear.

Rusty Spell's Green Dot Panel Four:
The woman heard him call the convenience store fucked up, and lost her momentary demon-ness, and said, "I'm sorry about that. This place is so loud." At which point she completely won us over and we smiled and decided it was okay, and were happy that she provided us with a catch-phrase for the weekend: "TWO EIGHTY, MAMA!" The End.

You may have noticed the Carrie poster Rusty posted last time. I've got that on the wall in my bedroom. You can see it in our famous Not Lisa Loeb video, which Sean Carman referenced and which you can watch here.

In conclusion, give us more comments, offer donations, and look at Rusty play with his buttplug:

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Rusty Lives!

So I've added a donation button. We'll use this for plane tickets or butt-plugs. Either way, it's a good cause.

Here's my illustrated highlight of the San Antonio trip:

In order to comment on Sean Carman's comment, I first have to translate. Them literary types confuse me. I end up reading the sentences four or five times. Here's what I've come up with:


The GLORY!blog is really funny. I read it every day. It's the Reader's Digest of hilarity.

Maybe I should spend more time creating things and less time looking for creative things? I never thought of mysef as lacking in imagination until I began reading the GLORY!blog.

Carrie is more hot than Lisa Loeb. (Lisa Loeb who?) "Rusty Spell" seems like a made up name, but I guess it's not.

Carrie and Rusty manage to blend pop culture references, sharp jokes, and their own adoration of each other into tight little posts.

I like using the word "pithy." It's not used very much, probably because it sounds like what it isn't.

I feel I haven't said what I really want to, but I hope you understand that I like what I read.


Thanks, Sean. You're the winner of the Sir Posts-a-Lot contest thus far. We like your comments. You make us feel we're doing our jobbies.

A Long Comment from Sean Carman of Seattle

Sean Carman tried to leave us a comment of over 1000 words, and has e-mailed it to me since the comment machine rejected it for being too long. Mr. Carman has been receiving the glory and wanted to let us know. We love and encourage all comments and here is his:

Hilarity abounds at this web log. And it is somehow distilled, or reduced, perhaps, but I mean that in the best way. Consider me a constant reader.

You also make me think that as I spend a great deal of my spare time wandering around obsessively fixated on getting a nicely composed perfect exposure of an aesthetically interesting subject at a peak moment that, perhaps -- and I had never considered this possibility -- I have a severely constricted imagination. Because I'm not making records and videos and inventing an entire new language or anything.

The Lisa Loeb video Carrie did ended my crush on Lisa Loeb, and made the early 90's dim in my memory (this due to the radiance of Ms. Hoffman), which heretofore seemed impossible.

And now, a review:

Ms. Hoffman and Mr. Spell (not a pseudonym, apparently) have concocted not merely a paean to popular culture and their own blossoming love, but something more: a pop-culture portal for their endlessly creative and (and we mean this in the best way) pithy wit.

For this site is nothing if not pithy.

And I mean that as a compliment.

Pithy, I think, is a misunderstood word, don't you think? I always thought it meant concise and witty. If it means anything derogatory in the least (which is really SOUNDS like it should, no?) then it is only misunderstood in the sense that it is misunderstood by Sean Carman.

I have rambled long enough. I have tried, but I have not done you guys justice. Keep up the good work. Seattle cheers for you.

sincerely written by: Sean Carman.

Monday, April 12, 2004

San Antonio, City of Romance

We skipped the Carrie-Rusty message this weekend. We were so jam-packed spreading the glory in person to people that we didn't do it online. Here are some of the trip highlights:

We saw lots of Dairy Queens between Edinburg and San Antonio -- that's basically all they have on the road. We got a room on the twentieth floor and a really cool view of San Antonio. I came out of Rusty's chest like an alien.

Rusty almost chickened out of dinner at the San Antonio Space Needle because of a fear of heights, but then he regained his manliness and we had lots of fun. Elvira took us up in the big glass elevator and our ears popped. The restaurant rotated so we could see the whole city. Rusty ate his favorite meat, duck, and I got shrimp. In a rare move, we both ordered iced tea instead of Coke. That's us at the dinner table to your right in a photo taken by a guy who complimented us on being a good-looking couple. He also took another photo of us, which you can see on the table, but my eyes were closed. We wanted a good one to post on the GLORY!blog since we're always thinking of you, dear reader.

After dinner, we strolled in a park and pretended we were in Venice. We tried to get in the jacuzzi that night, but it was full of fat conference participants. That takes care of Friday.

On Saturday, we woke up early and I got dressed up for my reading. It turns out, I did good, even though the audience of mostly pretentious academics was bad. Still, I got compliments on my story from strangers afterward. One woman said I had good delivery, which was the best one I got. The best question I got was, "Did you really throw the dog away?" To which Rusty and I responded, "Hey! Fiction is made up!"

After lunch, my friend Courtney and her man showed up and we remembered to have good times at the Alamo for about five minutes before deciding it was too crowded. They spread us their joy while we did the same. We got stuck in a downpour.

Back in the hotel that night, Rusty and I stood by the window and watched hail hit the glass.

Lots of fun times. San Antonio is the city of romance. Go there if you want to see couples strolling and holding hands. Go visit my photo page of you want to see more pictures, including some of Rusty's performance in Montevallo. Right now we don't have a set date of when we will next see each other and it's a little weird not to have a set date in mind, especially after spending two weeks at spring break and then two weekends in a row. But we both have summer time so we're hopeful. Maybe we should have Paypal donations on this site for plane tickets.

Thursday, April 08, 2004

Please Don't Tamper with Texas

More phrases, tiny ones:

1. "The thing is..." at the beginning of sentences.
2. "It turns out..." at the beginning of sentences (also a Rusty-Tommy thing).

It turns out we have a lot of phrases. Cause, the thing is, we have a lot of phrases. We even have them.

Before everyone gets all excited about the Crank Yankers videos, they ain't the whole things, just clips... but even the short clips are pretty funny. We anxiously await DVD box sets.

I'm not sure where Carrie got the false info that Tommy left a comment. I mean, he said himself that he wasn't leaving any comments. Didn't you read that? For the longest time, I believed Tommy would eventually break down and leave a comment, but now that I've read that, I know for sure that he won't.

Since I'm an old man, our pictures together (if we dated as kids) would have to look like this:

If I were younger than Carrie, it would look something like this:

So Texas is a big state. You could drive on it for days. I have. "It's like a whole other country," as they say. And where I live is like a whole other country separate from Texas. Once when I was a child, Mother told me about visiting San Antonio and how it was ridiculously hot, and now I think of San Antonio as "way up north." When I was in Mississippi and Alabama this past weekend, I froze to death.

We'll probably remember The Alamo this weekend. I wonder if there will be more people there now that they're doing a movie about it. There's not that much to see at The Alamo to be honest. This picture has appeared before on the GLORY!blog, but here it is again:

This is me realizing that The Alamo is just a wall and an old woman. The old woman is always there. She was at the battle, as a screaming baby. She's like the Titanic lady, basically. She's really old. Her skin is, among other things, comprised of 20% brick and 40% adobe.

The thing that's cool about The Alamo is that they enjoyed the famous Rusty Spell visiting so much that they engraved an image of me as if I were there in the olden days (when the woman was a baby). This is it:

Perhaps Carrie and I will go to the Ripley's Believe It Or Not spook house and Guiness' Book of World Records attractions across the street instead.

Maybe a Carrie-Rusty message soon? Those are the worst ones, of course. We're private writers, not very good at joining forces.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Tomorrow is Thursday and Other Useful Information

Rusty likes my dancing -- he's the first person who made me realize I was a good dancer. I never went to high school dances or anything so I didn't know. I'd just dance around by myself, really, but then when we finished recording "Hubba, Hubba" two years ago, we danced to our song until I realized that Rusty had stopped and was just sitting in his chair watching me. That's how I figured out he liked it. I do this thing where I point and bite my bottom lip while I dance. I like it. One day Rusty and I need to go to a club or something with a dance floor so we can break it down. If Rusty goes to my brother's wedding with me this summer, we can take over. I predict we'd get one of those circles around us.

Another Rusty-Carrie phrase we forgot is, "I'm a kid so you know I gotta have alotta freeze pops. Freeze pop, freeze pop, freeze pop," which comes from the Li'l Romeo episode of Cribs. He said it as he showed off his freezer and had about 10 boxes of different frozen novelties.

I found out that you the Comedy Central Crank Yankers site has RealPlayer versions of a lot of their bits, including Rusty's and my favorite. If you watch "Hadassah Calls the Lost & Found" here, it will be a way for you to channel us. We like to quote and imitate it.

I'm glad that I used the Carrie-force to convince Tommy to leave us a comment. Tommy needs to leave a comment every day.

So tomorrow's Thursday and Thursdays are the days that Carrie and Rusty take planes to see each other. Tomorrow I will be on two planes, and the last one will get me to McAllen, Texas where Rusty will pick me up at the airport and carry my bag to his car and act chivalrous. It will be exactly four days since I dropped him off at the Jackson airport on Sunday. I'm gonna read a story at this conference in San Antonio. And my college roommate and best friend Courtney is gonna come hang out with us on Saturday. Other plans we have are to eat at the Tower of the Americas restaurant, which is essentially the Seattle Space Needle of San Antonio. Perhaps we'll go to the Alamo or to Six Flags. I dunno. We've got the whole day on Friday for frolicking. If you've been to San Antonio and you have a suggestion, leave us a comment. Otherwise, leave us a comment anyway, and tell us to be safe and have fun.

Here's Rusty's and my first grade pictures:

Cockjammers Inc.

So more on Carrie's previous post.

We also like the way each other dances. Especially I like the way Carrie dances. Dancing is one of the best things Carrie does: seriously. Not just "good for a quiet girl" or "good because I luv her," but really good for anyone. I'd put it up there with her writing.

I feel that when I say "Go to lunch," I'm referring to Glengarry Glen Ross itself and not the removed reference of the actor's studio. But Carrie says nay. At any rate, we usually don't say "Go to lunch" but "Go to bed" or "Go to hell" or some other variation.

Go to hell. Go to hell. Why don't you just go to hell? Will you please go to hell? Go to hell.

We've taken up "cock" variations. "Cockjam" is only one. There's also cockram, cockjammer, cockface, cock-n-blow, and others. And, yes, it's usually for people in cars: "Watch out for that cockjam pulling out in front." "Man, what a cock-rammer."

"These'em days" was an evolution. It began with my students' overuse of the word nowadays (some sort of regional thing--I know the word exists in other places but I get it on like every paper here in the Rio Grande Valley). Not only their use of it, but their common misspelling/misknowing, which was "now in days." So when we started singing the Nico song "These Days," we changed it to "These In Days" then "These'em Days." Most recently, we get "These'em days'em."

I've been out walking.
I don't do too much talking these'em days'em.
These'em days'em I seem to think a lot
About all the things I forgot to do.

More things for the common expression list:

1. "Little Bow Wow, you just don't know." Said over 100 times by me the night my brother forced me (and Carrie) to watch Titanic. Only Carrie seemed to notice.
2. Anything from that one segment of Crank Yankers when Hadassa (Sarah Silverman) called the casino's lost and found. Specifically "I knooow" (when she won her over) and "It doesn't matter if it's in the book: what you you looking for is not in the book."
3. "Aw yeah." Said when we think anything is remotely (and I do mean even remotely) cool.
4. "Crotch, crotch, crotch... bang on my crotch..." More of our cock obsession (oh yeah, I forgot to say "cocktease" up there) perhaps, but also referencing Tom Green. This was recently altered to "Sniff, sniff, sniff... Sniff on my crotch" when we figured some hipster's dog was about to attack us at the coffee show.

Little Bow Wow, all of us pooled our resources in order to come to a decision concerning the amount of knowlege and insight you've retained in your short years on this planet, and at the end of the day we all concluded that "not a great deal" is the answer.

We got one of them site tracker things (our counter) that tells us stuff, and it let us know that someone was Googling the phrase "I hate The Passion of the Christ" and found us. I'm so proud.

So, anyway, I'm glad Tommy decided he wanted to leave us a comment. He can be person #3. That's pretty good.