The Kjaorn Supremacy

Happy Birthday. . .

America. Proud of you.
Happy B-Day Al Davis.

Be Careful kids.

Spotted on Applewood Lane

I'm pretty sure I just saw Dog the Bounty Hunter rolling down my block. That's right, just rollin' down Applewood like it was no thang. My fingers are a shakin' boy. I can hardly bang out this post. Dude's mullet was lookin' legit.  Tried to chase him down for an autograph, but he split. Dude is quick. I guess barking at him was the wrong approach. Oops. Must be in town for the Olympic trials. Keep your eyes peeled folks.

Kyle DuClos

In 6th grade I met a little ginger kid named Kyle. He was a dirty little fucker, but a good kid nonetheless. A rowdy little fucker too. That kid didn't fear anything. He was always the first one to jump off the bridge--so to speak. I was never far behind.

I had just moved here from California following my parents divorce, which was probably the most difficult period of my life. I was in need of some good friends. Kyle quickly became one of them. He was like a brother really. I spent almost as much time at his house as at my own. The DuClos' became like a second family to me.

Throughout middle school me, Kyle, and our other homeboy Jon became a constant. Thick as thieves boy. We became infamous around school. One of our teachers dubbed our squad the "Flea Patrol" because we were always runnin' around and bouncing off the walls.

We were always quite a handful, but didn't really start getting too bad until the wanning months of 8th grade year when we realized that we could pretty much get away with anything. We started skipping class daily and catching the bus downtown to buy weed, cigs, and skate. The next couple of years played out like that movie Kids, minus all the AIDS of course. Lots of drinkin', lots of smokin', lots of trouble.

It was in these years that Kyle started getting extra bonkers. He always talked about how he was going to die young. I always brushed it off because it just seemed so stupid at the time. Still does. About a year out of high school Kyle killed himself. He dressed up in a suit and blasted himself in the chest with one of his pop's rifles. When I first got the news I was not that surprised actually. I'm still not. That was about 9 years ago now. I still think about that little fucker constantly. I really wish I could have helped that kid. I still can't get over how fucking senseless this act was. I'm not sure that anybody could have done anthing to intervene, but you can't help but wonder.

Just about every Sunday morning I wake up and check out PostSecret. This Sunday I was greeted with this video:

Seems like a pretty good organization. If you can help, do.

You know I'm still tippin' 40s for ya on a regular bro. Rest in peace.

The Track Town Smackdown

If your idea of a good time includes listening to earsplitting punk rock music, sippin' on PBRs, and watching scantily clad women pummel each other--well, you better get them tickets quick kid cause they're flying off the shelf like Tickle Me Elmos in '96. You know what I'm talkin' bout.

Also, this is probably going to be the last time to see me getting it done in the stripes. That's right, I'm hangin'em up for awhile. Time to get a job. FUCK. Anyways, come on out. It's gonna be good. Real good. Trust.

Oh no!

These shits is soo beautiful they make my fuckin' eyes hurt.

Peep more pics at: "In4mation"

What I Learned in The Big Apple

After returning from NY my lovely teacher Mrs. Deb Morrison asked the troops to provide her some of the lessons we took back from New York. This is what I came back with. Of course my vision of the assignment would have included stuff about drinking 40s in the street and sleeping on the subway, but she specifically asked for something thoughtful. I deviated a tad, but that's what I do.

Sure, none of these lessons were completely new to me, but they were mos' definitely solidified on the trip. I don't think that these lessons apply exclusively to New York either. Rather, I believe that there are some universal truths at work here. Hopefully anyways.

If not, check out ODB puttin' it down for the slums of Shaolin. Kid was always reppin' NYC to the fullest.

LMFAO "I'm in Miami Bitch"

This video was supposed to be banned from YouTube, but I found it on thurr anyways. These fools got dem crazy, stoopid, dope moves yo. Can't stop bumpin' this track. Check it out. I like your butt wimp. Call me.

Two Cunts in a Kitchen: I'm just not feelin' very fresh lately?

So I was just stumbling Wikipedia and I got hit with "Two Cunts in a Kitchen." Apparently this is a popular advertising term. Leave it to the ad industry to have a term like this. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little disappointed that I didn't know this already. I drop like $60,000 to get a good education in advertising, and I'm just now learning this. What the fuck? Thank God for StumbleUpon and Wikipedia I guess. Anyways, it refers to a tv spot in which two women are placed in a scene using, discussing, etc. an advertiser's product. Oftentimes a household product or feminine hygiene product.

Here's the link: Two Cunts in a Kitchen.

I think this qualifies:

This actually reminded me of another term that includes female genitalia. I sure do like female genitalia. Sorry. Not surprisingly, it's a roller derby term.

Runaway Pussy (noun):  An attempt by a group of blockers (may also include the pivot) to outpace a jammer to prevent her from scoring.

Vagina, vagina, vagina. That's all. Love you.

Whiskey Militia: Banner Ads 2 & 3

Wexley Metal!

Because we prefer you.

Whiskey Militia: Banner Ad Numero Uno

Put this sucker together with my main man Winter Gibbs. I really hope you likes it lots. I love you.

A call to Art Directors: Please help me!

Nike: The Next Level

72andSunny is blowing my fucking mind right now. Nothing but great work coming out of that place. The Discovery Channel commercial a couple weeks back, and now this. Brilliant.

The cutest things I have ever seen & My last wishes

I did a little shopping for some travel size toiletries today for my New York trip. These fuckers have to be the most darling little shits I have ever seen. I wish everything was available in a travel size.

Saw my mom today and gave her my last wishes in the case that my plane goes down in a blaze of glory, or I'm slain by a psycho while on my trip. It doesn't sound as though she is going to respect my wishes, so it's up to you friends to make sure that my wishes come to fruition in the event of my demise. I have made a list based on my top choices. I Jacob Gunderson being of sound mind and body (kinda). . .

1. Would like to be stuffed by a top notch taxidermist.
-Where my stuffed body ends up is unimportant. Friends and family can either take turns or arm wrestle for the privilege. If there are no interested parties, throw me on Craigslist or Ebay and donate the scrilla to the United Negro College Fund or Green Peace.

2. Have a barbeque in my honor with my remains. I promise I will taste delicious.

3. Donate my bones to an anatomy program. I'm pretty sure I will make a dope skeleton.

4. Construct a mini Viking ship and float it out to sea with my remains. Set that fucker ablaze. Watch it burn and tip a 40 oz. in my name. If a beach party and orgy ensue, that's hella cool with me.

5. Cremate me and distribute my remains to whoever wants 'em. Sprinkle my ashes somewhere rad.
-Top of a mountain (Bachelor, Willamette, Hood--I've slayed 'em all). Bring my shred stick along as well, set that fucker on fire and give it a push down the hill.
-Your favorite fishin' hole or mine (covered bridge hole on the McKenzie)
-50 yard line at the Oakland Coliseum
-Be creative, I'm goners and don't really give a shit. Pretty much anything that involves fire or an explosion will be appreciated.

I am an organ donor, and I'm fairly certain half of you folks are going to be needing a new liver here in a couple years. Dibs can be had in the comment section.

Peace and Love.

Power of the Stripes

Again folks, if you didn't make it to the bout, you really missed out. Once again the lovely and talented Emerald City Roller Girls sold out the joint. Yep, packed the fair grounds full. 3,000 plus roller derby faithful screaming and cheering for our awesome ladies, and filling the air with an electricity that cannot be described. Very Phil Collinsesque.

The bout was great. Coos County got worked over by our Andromedolls, but played their hearts out nonetheless. I really admire those chicks determination and love for the game. The Andromedolls really played great. Very impressed with those chicks as well. Very impressed.

The Church of Sk8in' and Flat Track Furies bout was an epic battle, and even included a real deal brawl, which I didn't get to see unfortunately. That's right, fervorous fists rained down from the skies like hate filled stones. Not to say that I encourage this kind of behavior in roller derby, I don't. The sport has been trying to recover from that image and establish themselves as a legit sport, which it absolutely is, but on the other hand, I'm a sports fan and a good bench clearing brawl is something that I have always enjoyed as a fan. My fellow refs did a fantastic job restoring the order. Good job zebras.

Both of these teams came into the bout undefeated, and both played like champions, but in the end the Church prevailed narrowly. I was impressed with the efforts of both teams. Great, great bout it was. I wise man once said, "After a bout, half of the people are happy and half the people are sad. Then we drink beer." Or something along those lines. Soooo true. I got nothin' but love for the entire ECRG organization. Pretty much the coolest kids I know. A great time was had by all.

Rocking the stripes finally paid off. Not to say that all the love and appreciation I receive from the ladies isn't enough, because it is, and I do love the free post bout beers. Really--but anything beyond that is extra sweet. While cleaning up after the bout I was approached by a wicked hot derby fan who hooked up the digits. Oh yeah, the ladies love the stripes.

la comunidad for Buenos Aires Independent Film Festival: "Tom Sellecks"

Good. Very good.

Killin'em on the links

Played 18 today over at River Ridge and shot my best score on a championship course to date. I shot a 15 over par for a total score of 86. If you have played R.R. you know that this is a pretty respectable score for a dirt bag like myself. A lot of people are pleased to break 100 on this course. Pretty pumped, and I'm continuing to get better. I think I might be able to shot in the high 70's if I keep it up.

While approaching the par three 12th tee I thought that I spotted a bobcat. Here is a picture:

I wasn't able to get very close because the little sucker took off. Upon closer inspection of the picture I'm fairly certain that it was just a BIG feral cat, or possibly a bobcat-domestic cat hybrid, but I don't think so. Okay, okay. It's a fucking house cat. Dammit all. Oh well. I guess I'm not the National Geographic photographer that I thought I was.

72andSunny: Discovery Channel "I Love the World"

I love the 72andSunny.

Emerald City Roller Girls: Concrete Jungle

Saturday, saturday, saturday at the Lane County Fair Grounds. Hot roller derby action. Your Emerald City Roller Girls will be in action along with the Coos County Roller Girls. BE THERE!

For real though, all I ever here after a bout is, "Jake, why didn't you tell me there was a bout? I really need to check one of these things out! What the fuck man?"

Well, here it is. You have been informed, so don't come at me with that ish next week unless you want to be slapped in the tits. Go get your tickets pronto because these things are selling like hot cakes. Tickets can be had on their website, at Fastlane Coffee, or through me possibly, so holler at'cha boy. Get 'em well the gettin' is good folks. These suckers won't last.

A good time will be had by all. That is a guarantee! Dope tunes. PBR tall cans. Scantily clad ladies beating the shit out of each other, and hopefully not me. What more can you ask for?

Unsatisfied customers will be allowed to kick me square in the baby maker.

I love you.

Top 5 Moustaches of All-Time

Fuck, shit, cock, ass, bitch, piss, tits, Bob Saget. . . God dammit I wish I could grow a sweet stache. These are my top 5 staches of all-time. I know some of these are rather obvious, but the beauty of these moustaches cannot be denied.

5. Steve Prefontaine
4. Burt Reynolds
3. Rollie Fingers
2. Tom Selek
1. Jason Schwartzman (The Darjeeling Limited)

Yes Mr. Selek, you have been dethroned. You had a good run. A solid 20 years of stache dominance. Mad props sir. Sorry.

Just watched The Darjeeling Limited and it was pretty good. Most definitely required viewing. Jason Schwartzman's moustache was gorgeous. Words cannot describe how beautiful his stache was in this flick. Fucking epic stache. If I could grow a stache half as good, I would rule the world. Say what you will about moustaches, but the fact of the matter is they make panties drop like two beers and a vicodin.

This is what I would look like if I was capable of producing a significant amount of testosterone:

Compliments of Pet Moustache.

I grew up a fuckin' screw-up. . .

There are not many aromas that I appreciate more than the one you are hit with as you approach an urban convenience store. You know what I'm talking about. It's like the perfect mixture of spilt malt liquor, bum piss, and broken dreams. It gets me every time, and I'm prompted to reminisce of simpler times when slipping a 40 oz. down your pant leg was an everyday thing, and passing around a can of Glade Air Freshener to huff through a rag was a party. The good old days boy. To be a 14 year-old dropout again. Those were the times.

Best line in a film ever!

And the award goes to. . . Drum role please. . . "Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!" David Lynch's Blue Velvet. Epic flick.

All up in the paper son!

Hole-in-one Club

Just got my first hole-in-one, and boy am I pumped. Today after class I decided to go tough out a round in the rain. Things were going okay considering the conditions, and I chalked up a couple of pars and a several stroke lead over my buddy Brad going into the par 3, 205 yard eighth hole. I asked Brad if I could use his new 3 hybrid. I put a good swing on it, and the ball flight looked good, but I lost it in the sky. As we approached the green, my ball was no where in sight. I decided that I must have muscled it over the green. As I walked up to the green I noticed a ball mark about a foot in front of the cup. Someone hit a nice shot, I thought. I wondered if it was me that hit that dandy. I glanced down into the hole, and there was my ball buried in the bottom of the cup. I then let out a holler that must have been heard miles away. WooooooooooooHooooooooooooo!

I can now die a happy man.

Mark Khaisman: Emily, Arielle and Helen

This image was created by layering packaging tape on plexiglass. Packaging tape on plexiglass. Yeah. Tape. It was then illuminated from behind. Amazing stuff. I don't even know what else to say really except for those beezies are fly. Nice work Mr. Khaisman. I dig it.