The writing exercise involves five people. Each person writes a sentence or two, then passes it to the next person. The process went through the cycle several times and the result was a short story that turned out pretty interesting — if you can manage to read it with an open mind.

I changed it a bit so that it would have a slightly more cohesive flow, but other than that, what you’re about to read is 98% of what came to be. I think it turned out pretty cool!

Cherry Blossom

I came into work and had the notion that all my co-workers had been stolen and replaced by exact replicas — a usual day. Yesterday was better because I waited in line behind a girl with a cool cherry blossom tattoo. Pain as usual shot through my veins and up to my bulging eyes as I focused on the tattoo.

I shook my head and thought again about my coworkers, Tim, that jerk, was always on time, Joe was running marathons, and Frank was designing like the angels. Did I enter the bizarro world? Was I sent to Hell and now getting a second chance at life?

I went outside to take a cigarette and then saw the girl with a cherry blossom tattoo coming my way. How could this be? I asked her for a light and she gave me a strange look.

Cherry Blossom was nothing more than an innocent Internet chat. But she soon turned into an online love affair riddled with deceit. It happened to be the best of us for sure, and sometimes it was the worst of us. And right then it hit me: Cherry was hot, but I had to get back to work.

Suddenly, it was the middle of the winter and the Cherry Blossom looked very promising. The online chatting continued and I asked myself, how far do I want to follow the rabbit? Cherry had her finger on the trigger of my brain. My eyes were two barrels staring at her breasts. Bang! My hands went off.

It was a good thing I didn’t go back to work as I played tune-in-Tokyo with the… what turned out to be a super-target security guard — I hope it’s not a trap. Now I’m obsessed with a uniformed 36-Double-D. This is turning kinky!

Then I heard the Office manager, Mr. M asking someone if he had seen me. No answer.

I opened my eyes and Cherry was gone. The sweet cherry blossom tattoo was gone with her and I realized I was under my desk. I had climbed under there for a quick nap, and Mr. M and his damned law got me again. I could see M’s designer loafers standing just out of reach, but squarely in my cubicle.

Should I stay quet or say something? I weighed my options.

I just rolled over and closed my eyes. The cherry blossom tattoo was soft and blurry. It shaped into something else as I drifted off to sleep. Four hours later I awoke. I noticed the strange sent of Elmers glue. I popped my head up and noticed all my co-workers were gone. Must have been a meeting going on or something. Lucky Mr. M was nowhere in site. Not exactly surprised it had gone unnoticed — this morning 100% and now all the way down to 0%.

I gathered my stuff and walked out of the building. It was snowing outside and it fell in my face. I had mixed feelings as I opened the door of my dad’s truck. I drove away but on my way out, I noticed somebody standing on the street corner.

It wasn’t a man, but a small being with big black eyes and an oversized head. I stopped the truck and stared at him. For a second I saw him morph into Cherry Blossom then back again. “You are just a replica.” He said and suddenly vanished.

THE END

There it is folks. Keep writing, keep it interesting, try new things! And if you feel inspired, go right ahead and leave a comment in the box below…

Anyway, I did an experiment where I became a smoker for about a month. Actually, I didn’t set out to do an experiment, it just turned out that way. The more I smoked, the more I found myself craving cigarettes. I started with a pack a week and then increased my intake to a pack every 2-3 days. My entire involvement with cigarettes went on for about 30 days.

When I noticed my cravings for nicotine growing, I decided to find out what I was in for if I suddenly quit smoking. I didn’t use any “quit smoking” products, I just stopped — “cold turkey” as they say. Here is my story of how I gave up smoking.

Day 1 - Quitting pride is on my side.(Imagining this jingle) In the past, I smoked mostly in the evenings so that’s when my cravings are the worst. The cravings are on/off throughout the day but the evenings are the worst. My God, this is the worst! Not really though ’cause I’m going to be smoke free! It’s easy for me to be my own cheerleader at this point, a cheerleader that sings little jingles for myself. Rah, rah, rah!

Day 2 – Quitting pride is fading. Stupid cheerleader metaphor, just give me a smoke already. I picture myself smoking in my imagination, a persistent vision I can’t seem to shake. I don’t want to say my thoughts to smoke are like a broken record because that’s a lame metaphor, uh yeah, like something else I just mentioned. Glad you’re still reading!

Day 3 – Pride gone, I need to smoke. This is all just ridiculous. I go out for a walk and see discarded cigarette butts everywhere. People are smoking, even the people who aren’t smoking seem to be smoking. I wish people would stop doing things with their hands/fingers. I look away from them, anywhere I can. I look to the sky. The clouds above me resemble plumes of smoke.

“It’s all in your head,” as they say, but the problem is that you’re head is a pretty significant part of you’re body and you can’t get rid of it easily.

Day 4 – The urges are still there but not quite as bad as yesterday. At least not until the urges come back and they’re toting guns, smoking cigars, and pointing them at me (both the guns and the cigars). I can’t believe I committed to this experiment for 7 days! Really, I surrender, I’ll smoke a fucking God-damn cigarette already! But before I can get my hands on some, the psychic smoking gunslingers disappear and I’m off the hook.

If this blog post can be of inspiration to anyone trying to quit, one tip I have for you: Do not make cigarettes available at your immediate convenience. If you do, you’ll lose this game, I promise.

Day 5 – The urges to smoke are not quite as bad as yesterday. I guess I use that statement a lot to get me through this quit smoking experience; “Today’s better than yesterday”.

That said, I hear an arabic sounding jingle on the radio and it takes me back to the design on the box of Camel Cigarettes. I’m in a foreign land, enjoying the robust flavor of a fine, hand rolled tobacco product. The gunslingers are there, riding camels. We all shake our heads in approval of the cigarettes we smoke. The vision vanishes but my urge to smoke doesn’t.

“Just hang in there — two more days to go!”

Day 6 – Cashier in the checkout stand catches me eyeing the cigarettes behind her and asks me if I want some. I say I’m trying to quit. “Oh, good for you.” she says. “Whatever you do, don’t start up again after you quit.”

I gave her a curious look but had no comment. It was interesting advice, and I’m thinking she must have been a reformed quitter because earlier she mentioned she was a smoker.

I get home and sit on the back porch where I usually smoke. I have the thought that one puff would be nice. Just one and I’d put the rest of the cigarette out. If someone was standing near me with a cigarette I would do this and the 7 day quit thing would become a flop.

Day 7 - Okay, done with this little experiment — I’m leaving the house now to buy another pack of cigarettes! Actually, I’m having second thoughts about this because I don’t want to experience this “quit smoking” cycle again. It doesn’t seem worth it to me. Second thoughts are priceless.

And… I want to hold onto those valuable second thoughts because buying smokes is not priceless. A pack of cigarettes will typically go for more than $5.00 and the kind I took a liking to cost $5.89 a pack — yep, a jip!

Anyway, no cigarettes for me, not today. And as I write this in the evening, having reached my goal, I’m still craving a smoke. Addictive? Uh… Yeah. I have cravings today that rival day 3, even though the urge to smoke has subsided quite a bit.

I know it sounds cliche to say “be smart don’t start,” but if you’re still reading this then you probably don’t mind silly cliche’s and can hopefully extract some wisdom from all this. So while we’re on the subject, how ’bout “Oh shit, just quit!” when you’re thinkin about the costs of cigarettes. Go ahead, sing it if you want, I won’t tell anyone. I won’t even think you’re lame!

But seriously, I support anyone who chooses to quit smoking, or better yet not start. Of course you’ll need more than my support, you’ll need your own reasons to avoid smoking and that’s where things can get complex and personal.

As I mentioned before, I did not start smoking to do this “quit smoking” experiment. I started because I thought it would help me relieve stress. Smoking was helpful for stress relief in the beginning, but then I found it to be less and less helpful — It over promised and under delivered. Cigarettes gave me relief from my stress by offering me a brief feeling of well being. It’s a feeling of satisfaction that faded the more I smoked. I needed more, yet got less and less — yep, a jip!

Now, as far as dealing with my stress goes… I still haven’t solved that problem. Unmanageable stress is a personal issue for me. That’s another blog post though. Until then, “be smart don’t start” and “oh shit, just quit”! Here’s another web article that I thought offered some good tips on how to quit smoking.

And please, I want to hear from you! So feel free to leave a comment if you liked or didn’t like my story on how to give up smoking.

“Would you like to try our Sumatra? It’s the only thing we have right now.”
“Sure, thanks.” I said.
“Would you like to have a grande size for 20 cents more?”
“No thanks.”
“Would you like room for cream.”
“That’d be great.” I said thinking this would be the last question, but she had more up her sleeve. Her piercing dark eyes staring me down.
“Would you like a cookie or a cupcake?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Would you like to use your discount card today?”
“No, I don’t have one and don’t want to buy one, thanks.”

A few minutes passed before the woman behind the counter handed me my coffee. I felt like I had really earned this cup, it was not handed over easily. I dubbed it my cup of “5 question coffee.” I would enjoy it, just like I enjoyed thinking about how I might annoy this woman the next time she sells me a cup of coffee. I would have 5 questions for her:

1) “Would you like me to take out my wallet now?”
2) “Would you like to choose a bill denomination? I have a 1, 5, 10, and 20.”
3) “Would you like exact change? (I could again recite the coins from my pocket, penny through quarter.
4) “Would you like to smile when you sell me coffee?” (She didn’t smile the whole time, not once)
5) “Would you like me to smile?” (because I feel like giving you the finger!)

I write this blog post with a smile because I can’t help but do so when I think of my own 5 questions. I also have to take a moment of gratitude to think about all the other simple $ transactions I take for granted. Sometimes it takes an experience like this to notice.

Ahhh… 5 question coffee.

“Wild Pasture” is an eight minute documentary film on a species that is commonly overlooked in our society. These animals are generally peaceful creatures, but the males have been known to be dangerous on occasion. They can stampede and crush you, so that makes them excellent subjects for a documentary film… sort of.

The film’s inspiration took place as I was gathering some b-roll footage of a barn and silo for a separate project I was working on. I set up my camera in the field and looked through the lens to frame the shot. When I looked up, 25 of the animals were surrounding me.

It was a shock, I was terrified. I picked up my tripod and camera and waved it over my head in an attempt to look more threatening. Luckily, it worked and I escaped what I thought could be a very dangerous situation. I made a short film from the experience and it was a success!

This short premiered in the Sundance film festival in 2002 and for a while it was receiving a lot of attention. I have revived it for viewing on the Internet, so please help spread the word by sending it to all your friends!

Jeremy considered asking them to turn their music down but it seemed inappropriate to do so. Asking for some reason would be even more inappropriate than the current volume of their music. Telling them to “turn it down,” would have to be the responsibility of the restaurant staff.

There were several other customers parked at the curb and Jeremy could tell by their their facial expressions that they were bothered by the loud techno music. He joked with Katheryn, “Honey will you go tell them to turn their music down?” She gave him a funny look.

The car blasting the loud music was a 2009 gray Cadillac. Inside were four kids in their mid-twenties. A guy with a bleach blonde fro-hawk and designer shades sat in the driver’s seat. A blond girl with Gucci sunglasses and a tank top sat shotgun. A slender pair of women’s feet stuck out an open window in the back seat. In the other back seat was a young man with a crewcut and a tattoo of a lions head on his left shoulder.

At this particular drive-in restaurant, when you wanted the attention of the servers, it was as simple as turning on the headlights in your car. There was a big sign in front that said “Turn on your lights for service.” It worked well. Jeremy used it when he wanted a few extra napkins and the waitress brought him a ton. “Maybe it works too well,” he thought, holding the wad of extra napkins in his right hand.

However the driver of the gray Cadillac clearly had overlooked the sign. He decided it would be better to shout and whistle at the two young waitresses. He used this method for several verbal exchanges, one of which was a complaint that they brought him the wrong burger.

Jeremy couldn’t believe the rudeness of these people, it seemed to go from bad to worse. The thought of a large cup of orange fry sauce hurling through a blue sky, spilling over the edges and heading their direction made him laugh. It was just a thought, but one that soon materialized when he heard the words.

“Hurry it up, Bitch!” come out of fro-hawks mouth.

Subtly, Jeremy lobbed a half open but full container of fry sauce high into the air, aiming for the Cadillac. The fry sauce’s trajectory took a high arc that the universe would certainly help guide to splatter upon the Cadillac’s windshield. “They won’t have any idea who threw it and I will deny knowing anything about it.” Jeremy thought. He would not let his wife in on this little secret either.

However, the fry sauce didn’t land on their windshield, instead it floated through their open sunroof and exploded in the drivers bleach blonde fro-hawk. The orange goop was all over his hair, clothes, and a big glob of it draped over the lens of his designer sunglasses.

Fro-hawk was pissed and he stepped out of his car mad as hell. “WHO THREW IT!” Fro-hawk yelled aloud as if he was talking to everybody parked in the drive in. He marched up and down the aisles of cars and kicked a few random bumpers. One big guy got out of his truck and started yelling at him. Clearly at a disadvantage, Fro-hawk backed down from the fight. He got back in his car and the four pealed out upon leaving the drive-in.

The whole scene was incredibly entertaining and Jeremy was proud of himself for creating it and not taking credit. Kathryn had no idea that Jeremy threw the fry sauce, and he intended to keep it this way until long after the incident was over. Otherwise she might turn him in. Her sense of universal justice did not match that of his own. It was a difference that could spawn an argument now and then, but at the same time helped keep them together.

One of the cooks behind the grill however saw the whole fry sauce incident. He stared at Jeremy with a grin and nodded in approval when he caught his eye. As Jeremy left the parking lot, he turned the corner and another open container of fry sauce came sliding off the center console and into his lap. It got all over his new pair of pants. Amidst all the excitement, Jeremy had forgotten that there was another open container of fry sauce sitting on the center console.

He supposed it was the universe showing it’s sense of humor, though he didn’t find it nearly as funny when the joke was on him. Did you put that fry sauce on the center console he asked Katheryn?  She did not put it there, at least she didn’t think she did. For all Jeremy knew, it was he who put it there and forgot about it.

Luckily, they had a lot of extra napkins in the car to clean up the mess.

A small white house in the country is perched on a green hillside. The house is boarded up. A few scattered zombies roam about and the sun is going down. Inside the house, 3 men and 1 woman prepare to do battle with evil forces for which we can’t explain the origins.

While others sharpen their blades and inspect their guns, our spotlight character, the Dude, rests with his feet propped up on the arm of the sofa. He is drinking a White Russian and reading an issue of National Geographic. Gordon, the team leader, enters the room and is not happy with the sight.

“UH-hum, you need to get up and grab a gun.”

He sits up, and sets the drink and magazine down, trying not to lose the page he was on.

“Yeah, man far out.”

Gordon looks him over with a furrowed brow, unable to comprehend what is “far out” about the current situation. He grabs a 12 gauge shotgun and throws it to the Dude, hoping he’ll catch it… he does but it knocks him in the chest.

“We have a situation, that requires immediate action… and what did you say your name was?”

“Dude, just call me Dude.”

“Okay… Dude, don’t get killed tonight.”

The team had prepared for a long night. They had bottled water, plenty of food as well as weapons and ammo. Would they make it? Gordon could only hope for the best. He decided to make a round through the house to see how everyone was doing.

Dee was currently positioned at the window looking East. She was an ex-marine who could handle herself well. Her hair was short, crew cut style and she never said much. Her chest was enormous for her frame but she was far from the type to have a boob job. Asking her if she had a boob job would surely mean a fight, one in which Gordon would have to use his well honed skills in his defense.

Gordon himself was an ex-marine and would have been taken by Dee’s natural beauty right away had she not been seeing the guy in the next room, Ian.

“Ya okay in here Dee?”

“Check.”

Gordon moved to the next room where Ian was stationed. He could never understand what Dee saw in Ian. He was a loaner who traveled around a lot. Ian had a short mullet and wore horn rimmed glasses.

“Ian, you okay?”

“Righto, Gordo,” he said, doing a bad impression of an English accent.

“We got a barrage of zombies about to hit us.” Gordon said.

“I see em and I’m ready man, bring it on”

They both looked out the cracks between the boards that covered the windows. They could see the horizon was filling up with zombies as the sky was filling up with night. Gordon was concerned.

For the next several minutes he discussed possible strategies with Ian. They analyzed their strengths and weaknesses and came up with several worst case scenarios. Unfortunately, Gordon knew on some level that they were all doomed.

Dee eventually came in to join them. He was glad, for she often had good ideas. Aside from that, her presence really tied the room together.

Gordon, sensing the need for the team to stay tied together, went to get the Dude. Though doubtful if he’d have much to add, he was doing his best to inspire teamwork.

The Dude however, was not at his post. His gun was sitting in the windowsill unattended. He was thumbing through old records and had on a pair of headphones. Gordon could hear the music coming from the Dude’s headphones all the way across the room. He was outraged and a little panic stricken.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Gordon yelled.

The dude hardly heard him but his voice was just loud enough to get him to turn his head around and look at Gordon.

“Oh, hey man.”

“What’s the matter with you, do you realize what’s coming our way?”

The Dude, catching the drift of Gordon’s anger, suddenly felt guilty for not manning his post.

“Sorry man.”

He put the headphones down and turned off the record player. Then he carefully pulled the record off the turntable and slid it in the jacket. Several records sat on the floor and the Dude picked them up and began sorting them out one by one. All this time Gordon stands, gun in hand, watching in confusion and disbelief.

Apparently, the Dude had misplaced an album in the wrong sleeve. He starts taking the records out and fumbles around looking for the right match. It’s enough to turn Gordon’s disbelief into rage.  He rushes over and grabs the albums out of the Dude’s hands and throws them in a pile on the floor.

“Hey, careful man… that’s Billie Holiday.”

“Maybe you’re not grasping the full scope of what were up against. We’ve got zombies outside that want to eat our brains and they’ll be here any minute.”

The Dude is a bit put off by Gordon’s aggression but is understanding of his concern. He nods in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You don’t even have your gun in your hand. We’re covered on the North, East and South but what’s going to happen when they hit the West side of the house… your side of the house?”

“They haven’t hit yet man.”

“Well, when they do all hell’s going to break loose, and you… what’d you say your name was again?”

“Dude, or The dude… Dudearino, or…”

“Nevermind… Get that gun in your hand and get over there and guard the window.”

“Okay, man”

“Pronto!”

Gordon storms out of the room. He’s frazzled but at least satisfied he’s now got everyone, including the dude, covering their bases. Before he can make it back to his post, he hears a thumping sound coming from the back of the house. The zombies have arrived.

He runs to find Dee and Ian madly fighting Zombies at the back door. Arms are coming through cracks in the boards and Ian and Dee are hacking off limbs with a machete and kitchen knife. There is a pile of limbs on the floor and the two have pretty much got their hands full.

Gordon runs to the window to fight some more zombies. He can hear them hissing and moaning outside, lumbering around the back porch. He sticks his shotgun between one of the cracks through the window and squeezes off a few rounds.

Meanwhile, the Dude is squeezing off shots as well. At first he’s not sure he likes the violent kick of the shotgun but then starts to think it’s kinda cool. The fight goes on for several minutes as the team hacks, slices and blasts away. It’s almost enough to give them the illusion that they’re winning.

A loud crash in the kitchen is enough to shatter that illusion as a horde of zombies make it through the outside kitchen door. Gordon, knowing the layout of the house quickly moves to counter the attack, shutting the kitchen doors.

“Let’s go,” he says to Dee and Ian.

Then he notices the bite on Ian’s arm.

“Did one of them bite you?” Gordon says, looking at the huge open wound on Ian’s forearm.

“Looks that way,” says Ian.

Dee quickly grabs a strip of gause and bandages him up. They move toward another area of the house, the west side where the Dude holds down the fort. Gordon creates barriers out of furniture and Dee helps Ian walk. Gradually moving west and sealing off the way behind them so the zombies can’t follow.

During this intensity, Gordon is thinking, “either the Dude is dead or he’s happily sitting on the couch and smoking a “J”.”

They bust in his room.

“Ian’s been bit!” Says Dee.

The Dude is blasting away at zombies, and appears to be enjoying himself. He turns around and faces the group.

“Whoa… you should have seen that one!”

As he does this, a zombie from outside grabs the barrel of his unattended gun and presses down, knocking the dude in the head with the butt end. The Dude corrects and a brief tug of war ensues before he manages to get a shot off.

“Whoaaaaaaaa!”

Meanwhile, Ian collapses on the floor and Dee bends down to help him. The Dude pulls himself away from the action to notice what’s going on. Ian, his buddy that he met as a fellow roadie for Metallica has been bitten and it’s not looking good for him.

“We got to shoot em,” says Gordon.

Gordon holds up his gun, ready to do the job. The Dude steps in, trying to call attention away from his friend Ian.

“Wait man, we have a situation that requires immediate action here man. Zombies are all over the horizon.”

“Ian’s not looking good, that’s were the action needs to be taken Dude.”

“He’ll get over it man.”

“That’s not usually what happens in these situations.” says Gordon.

Suddenly, Ian lunges for the Dude’s leg and tries to take a bite. The Dude jumps back just in time. Gordon squeezes the trigger on his shotgun and Blam! Blood and brains fly everywhere splattering across the Dude’s face. Bits and pieces get into his beard.

The Dude stands still for a moment then shakes his head without actually moving at all. (Much like the scene where Donnie’s ashes scatter across his face at the funeral). However there is no wind, the air is still. The silence is interrupted by a loud yell from upstairs.

“Wooooohooooooo”. It’s Walter and he’s jumped from the second floor onto the landing.

“Walter, you made it”

“Hey Dude, looks like you’ve got yourself quite a situation here.”

“Walter, am I glad to see you man”

The doors burst open with zombies and Gordon and Dee make a mad rush upstairs almost knocking Walter over.

“That’s right, everybody upstairs, the chopper’s waitin… Bunch a Nihilists”

“Nihilists? Walter, they’re not Nihilists.”

“Not them Dude, the evil forces invading your little abode here”

The Dude stops on the landing to have a brief conversation with Walter. They survey the situation on the lower floor of the house, now being taken over by zombies.

“Walter, they’re not Nihilists they’re Zombies man”

“Call em what you will Dude, no time to argue, lets go”

Walter kicks one the zombies in the chest and sends him falling back on a bunch of other zombies. They make a run for the roof where a helicopter is waiting. They all make it to the makeshift launch pad, but there’s one small problem.

They’ve got 5 people and the chopper only fits 4. Jonnie,(a long lost cousin of Donnie) and an old friend of Walter and the Dude is sitting in the helicopter too.

“Hey Dude.” He says.

“Hey Jonnie, Walter why the hell did you bring Jonnie?”

“I don’t know Dude, the company I guess.”

“Can we all fit?” says Dee.

“I can sit on someone’s lap.” says Jonnie

“Jonnie, you’re out of your element, it’s too much weight for the chopper”

“1 of us will have to stay.”

To be continued…

Before I bought the easy button, I had in mind a couple of ways I wanted to customize it. Number 1 I wanted to make it green because a red easy button doesn’t make sense to me. Red is an emergency color and I wanted my easy button to have a soothing feel to it. Number 2, I didn’t like when you pressed the button, it say’s “that was easy”. For some reason, I just didn’t like it.

When I got home I began customization on my easy button right away. I took the rubber stoppers off the bottom and unscrewed the screws. I pulled on the wire that was connected to the circuit board and the whole circuit board broke. Oh well, that did the trick for getting rid of the audio.

Next I proceeded upstairs where all the painting supplies are usually kept. After some searching, I found the green paint I was looking for. I also found a small sable brush and a larger one so as to cover the whole red area of the easy button with green.

Once I had finished my painting I admired my work, It looked pretty good and I was happy with it. Then I noticed how the paint wasn’t drying and I looked at the label on the paint again. It was oil paint and not acrylic! Augggh! (Oil paint would take months and months to dry)

I got the turpentine out and took off the paint, what a mess it was. Green paint all over the place and on my hands and clothes. I must have spent half an hour cleaning up the mess.

I then proceeded to look for the acrylic paints. I looked everywhere in the paint room and then moved to other areas of the house. I called my wife to help me look and she couldn’t find the acrylic paints either.

I had no choice but to look in the attic. So there I went, digging through boxes and boxes of junk that I have in my attic (no metaphor intended). I found all kinds of stuff I wasn’t looking for but I could not find the acrylic paints. I was seriously ready to break something at this point.

I decided that maybe my green easy button wasn’t meant to be and that I’d either come back to this project or forget about it and move on. I went downstairs and sat on the couch next to my wife.

“Did you find the acrylics?” She said.
“No”, I said.
“Well the store’s still open, why don’t you go get some green paint”.

With that being said, I listened to my loving and helpful wife and went to the store. I picked out some green acrylic (making sure to read the label this time). When I got home I got a new sable brush and started applying paint.

This application unfortunately, was semi transparent (unlike the oil paint) and the easy button looked like garbage. I realized it just wasn’t going to work and I took a rag to it, wiping the paint off. I went ahead and settled for a red easy button but when I put the pieces back together my easy button was broken.

The moral of the story is that sometimes you just got to settle for what’s inside the box. Maybe that’s the key to happiness, not sure. One thing I can say for sure, is that I’m glad I bought that extra easy button as a gift because it became a gift to… (tears and sobbing) myself.

Change the color of the easy button EASILY in this Photoshop CS4 Tutorial.

Here is a FREE screensaver to download in case anyone questions your views. Take a stand and make it known by displaying it on your computer. Be proud to be part vegetarian!

Screensavers

1024 x 768
1280 x 1024
800 x 600
1152 x 864
1680 x 1050

I’ve also got a t-shirt available at cafe press but it’s pretty steep on pricing. If enough people tell me they’d buy them I’ll have them printed and sell them for under $10. Drop me a comment and let me know.

I’m also planning on donating most (if any) of the proceeds from this little project to earth friendly charities. So now if you’re seen wearing one, you really can say you’re green.

I'm part vegetarian T-Shirt

Psychiatrist
“What seems to be bothering you?”

Designer
“I hate having to upgrade my Adobe Suite. Every time they change things around, I can’t find my shortcuts and they change the interface in ways that are very disconcerting, it’s awful…”

“… I used to look forward to upgrades but now I can’t stand them. Ever since CS2 it seems it’s been all downhill and now I hate upgrading my Adobe products”

Psychiatrist
“I can prescribe something for that, would you like to try Adobetin?”

Designer
What about Adobezac or Adobezine? I heard there were bad side effects with Adobetin.

Psychiatrist
Actually, Adobetin is new and the makers have reduced some of the bad side effects that the other medications have. Lots of designers use it and have reported excellent results.

Designer
Won’t this prescription only work for a year or so and then wear off? Adobe upgrades every year and a half, so this won’t really work for me.

Psychiatrist
Some users of Adobetin have reported this, but it usually works best when coupled with other treatments.

Designer
What kind of treatments?

Psychiatrist
Group therapy and talk therapy. Sometimes it helps to talk these things out and know that there hundreds, even thousands of people that are just like you. You are not alone with your problems and it can help you to learn that you’ll just have to shut the hell up and deal with it.

Designer
Blaaaaaaahaaaaahaaaaaaaaah!

Anyone got some Adobetin? What’s your prescription for Adobe upgrades? Did you once look forward to them and now you dread them? Is this a phenomenon that happens with age, experience or both? Not effected at all? Talk to me.

Inspired by simple sayings like how do you eat an elephant? And A Journey of 1000 miles begins with… watch it and you’ll see.