The Real Jeff Orr

The Real Jeff Orr: Is a Beer Pirate

2010-07-17T15:45:00.000-07:00

On the Fourth of July, Erin and I tubed down the Sacramento River dressed as pirates. Pirates equipped with a shovel. We landed at Beer Can Beach and, in the midst of a crowd of drunken revelers, dug up a treasure chest full of beer. Here is the story of how this came about.

Last year I took a tubing trip with Jon, Katie and Ali. On the trip, Katie told a story about some people who had buried beer at Beer Can Beach and had dug it up the next day while dressed as pirates. I thought that this sounded like a really fun idea and started thinking about trying it on my own. A few months ago, Erin and I were coming up with a list of things to do this summer. I mentioned the pirate adventure and she thought that it sounded like an awesome idea. After looking at a calendar, we decided that the Fourth of July would be a perfect day for it because it was on a Sunday and there would be a lot of people on the beach.

I feel like I need to explain Beer Can Beach. It's actually an island in the Sacramento River, kind of just a glorified sand bar. It takes about 45 minutes to get to it from the start of a tubing trip and it is about 5 minutes from the landing where most people end their trip. Erin and I discussed the logistics of getting everything to the island and we decided that it would be possible to start at the landing downriver from Beer Can Beach and go up-river to bury the treasure. We would just need to swim across a 50 foot wide lagoon, then the water would be shallow and slow enough for us to wade up to the beach.

The day before the Fourth we got all of our supplies ready. We went shopping and bought some eye-patches and bandannas from a party store. We also picked up a pirate flag and an American flag to decorate our tubes with. There's an old ice-chest at our house that we decided to make our treasure chest. The top was spray painted black with a big white skull and cross bones and the inside of the chest was painted gold. After filling the ice-chest with ice and cheap beer (Milwaukee's Best) we were ready to go and bury our treasure. It was 9:30pm.

We got to the landing with a raft, ice-chest, two shovels, a flash light and a headlamp. Even though it was 9:30 at night, the temperature was still in the mid 80s. It was a dark moonless night when we loaded the ice-chest and shovels in the raft and swam it across the lagoon. The water was cold but not too bad. Getting to the island wasn't too difficult. We left the raft at the end and started to carry the ice-chest and shovels towards the beginning of the island, where everybody usually congregates. We very quickly realized that Beer Can Beach is a lot longer and more heavily overgrown than we had thought. Rather than weave through endless bushes, we decided to wade up the six inch deep stream for a while.

All this time Erin and I felt like we had walked into a horror movie. Our only sources of light was a flashlight and my headlamp. It's kind of amazing how this lowers your depth perception and creates some optical illusions. Dead trees start to look like people standing on the shore watching you. At one point I saw a pair of eyes low to the ground, staring back at us from the opposite bank about 40 feet away; I decided not to tell Erin about it.

Erin and I finally made it to the spot where we wanted to bury the treasure. We chose a spot that we thought we could easily remember the next day. After each grabbing a beer from the ice-chest, we got to work digging.

This. Took. Forever.

Beer Can Beach is about half small rocks (ranging in size from pebbles to half-bricks) and half hard-packed sand. The digging was hard work, but we were so exhilarated from the journey there that we dug with a frenzy. At first it looked like we were making quick progress. We checked the size of our hole by placing the ice-chest in it and found that we were already “about half-way there.” Around this time the sand we were digging out started to get wet and heavy. The hole also reached that awkward depth where you can't really get good leverage on the shovel. After checking the depth a few more times, we decided that we had done a good enough job and buried the sucker. Once it was buried it looked painfully obvious to us that something was buried there because the ground looked wet and disturbed. There wasn't really anything we could do but hope the sand dried...and remind ourselves that nobody would be expecting anything to be buried in the first place.

The trip back to the car was much easier. We found a path to the other side of the island (that we had somehow missed on the way up) and Erin and I each got in the raft to make our way to the landing. While on our way back downriver there was a large splash about 15 feet in front of us. We were about 50-50 on whether it was a fish, or some psycho hiding in the bushes on shore messing with us.

It was around 11:30 pm by the time we made it home, thankful that we hadn't become the inspiration for Deliverance 2. We had been gone about 2 hours.

On the Fourth of July, Erin and I each dressed up as pirates, with an American twist. I had an American flag pattern bandanna and Erin had painted an American flag on my chest. Erin was similarly decorated. We went tubing with Jon, a couple of other roommates, and a few hundred other strangers. The weather was perfect for tubing and the trip down river was a lot of fun. The island was pretty packed with people when we arrived. Erin and I both stormed the beach with shovel and foam sword in hand screaming, “Land ho!”

I rushed to the place where we had buried the treasure and our fears from the night before were vanquished. The sand had dried and it looked just like any other stretch of beach as I started to dig. At this point we were attracting a pretty good sized crowd of people, people whose faces wore a mixed expression on surprise, confusion and excitement. People started asking us questions, we started answering succinctly.

“Why are you digging?”
“Treasure.”

“How do you know there's treasure there?”
“Pirate instinct.”

“Can I help?”
“Sure.”

We hit the top of the chest pretty quickly, much to the excitement of the crowd. After clearing out most of the sand with the shovel we just started using our hands to dig around the sides of the chest. A few strangers lent a hand. Finally, enough dirt was cleared off and the chest was opened with a cheer all around. I reached in, grabbed the handle of whiskey we had placed in the chest, and took a victory swig. Then a few onlookers swooped in a grabbed some beer for themselves, before Erin had the presence of mind to close the ice-chest. One of the guys who helped us asked us what his share of the booty was, he was already holding three of our beers; I told him he was already holding it. Then we relaxed for a while and drank our spoils.

It was a great adventure that I wouldn't mind doing again if we could get more people involved. I'm really glad that Erin is willing to do silly things like this with me, even if it is just the two of us. Next time, I'll try to remember my camera.

The Real Jeff Orr, calls out inconsiderate a$$holes: an open letter

2010-05-01T17:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Equestrians,

You are the most inconsiderate assholes on the planet. There, I said it, and I know for a fact that everyone else agrees with me. My problem with you has nothing to do with you forcing a majestic animal into servitude. It has more to do with the fact that you think it's perfectly ok for your animal to defecate all over trails used by hikers and mountain bikers. The only people who think it's ok to leave a ten pound pile of steaming animal feces in the middle of a trail are people who own horses. Everyone else hates you and the turd mines you leave lying around. It isn't ok for someone else to leave their dog, cat, marmot, pig, monkey or turtle shit lying in the middle of a trail...SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT'S OK TO LET YOUR HORSE UNLOAD A MOUNTAIN OF ANAL CHOCOLATE?!?!

“But Jeff!” you argue, “Horse doody isn't as bad as doggy poo! It doesn't smell as bad because my horsey just eats hay!”

Ok straw man...first off, your overuse of the exclamation point offends me. Secondly, I don't want to step in ANY kind of shit...and I really don't want to step in a pile of crap that's big enough to cover my entire foot. I just want to have a pleasant day on the trails...and worrying about some inconsiderate dickweed leaving his animal's ass brownies all over the place is just going to ruin it for me.

“But Jeff...horses are really hard to get on and off of. I don't want to have to get off my horse to pick up his poop every time he goes number two”

Hey, it's not my fault you picked an idiotically inconvenient mode of transportation...and it's really not my fault that you're fucking lazy. If you honestly can't be bothered to personally pick up the steaming discharges generated by your horse, then you should think about having your manservant follow you around with a shovel and trashcan. If you are one of the few horse owners who can't afford a manservant, then try attaching a bag to your horses ass. Hell, your always going off about how smart horses are...why don't you try training the beast to not shit all over the trail. Just have your horse move his ass off the side of the trail when it feels the urge to go...seriously...why hasn't anyone else thought of this yet?

“But Jeff, it's just generally accepted by society that horse owners don't have to pick up horse poop.”

Like hell it is! Society hates you and your shit spewing horses. Society is sick of stepping in animal feces. Society would love to see horse owners riding around with a big trash bag filled with their animal's waste.

If you aren't yet convinced that you are the most inconsiderate assholes on the planet, I'll leave you with one final argument.

Children use those trails. Children are notorious for having terrible peripheral vision. Because of this, every 57 seconds, a child steps ankle deep in horse shit. You might as well just hold a five year old down while your horse craps all over him...you'd achieve the same result. Why do you hate children so much? What did they ever do to you? Feel free to email me with answers to these questions...just know that I might not have time to read them...I'll be too busy saving the children that you heartlessly endanger.

Fuck you,

Jeff Orr

Baskin and Robins are Dirty Dirty Liers

2009-08-27T21:25:00.000-07:00

Ok, so if you've been watching TV recently then you've probably seen this commercial

Now you're probably thinking what I was thinking...fuck...yes! Ice-cream cake has been scientifically proven to kick 7,534 times as much ass as ice-cream or cake in their non-combined forms. AND FOR ONLY $9.99!!!

Last night a few friends and I set out to but ourselves a piece of nine dollar and ninety nine cent perfection in the form of B&R's best invention, the ice-cream cake log. Imagine our shock when we walked into that purveyor of frozen lies and found that the cake of our choice cost a staggering $29! Even though the cake was in the commercial advertising cakes for $9.99!

We had fallen into a simple trap...the marketing version of a bumble-bee enema...the old "starting at $9.99" trick. They have one cake for $9.99...the smallest, saddest, shittiest looking ice-cream cake I've ever laid eyes upon. The rest were all $20+.

In the marketing world this is known as the "bait and switch". You bait your customers into coming with the promise of something awesome...then you switch the awesome thing with something lame...but still acceptable. Unfortunately it looks like the Baskin and Robbins marketing team was busy eating paint chips when God handed out brains because their bait and switch is pulled off with the grace of a polio-stricken octogenarian drunk on cough syrup while ice skating. There is no way anybody in their right mind is going into that place expecting to pay $9.99 for an ice-cream cake log, find out it costs three times this, and then decide to purchase it anyways...and don't tell me that maybe you wanted the small crappy $9.99 cake in the first place...everybody know the log is the best cake by far.

Ben and Jerry would never treat me this way...Jon and Bon would never think of doing this. Screw you Mr. Baskin and Mrs. Robbins, I'll be getting my frozen confections elsewhere from now on.

The Real Jeff Orr, writes an open letter to Freshmen

2008-08-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

Hey Freshmen,

Welcome to Chico! You've made a great decision in deciding to spend these very formative years of your life in this fair town. By this point you've no doubt heard that Chico is a great biking town. It's true! The citie's heavily concentrated student population and incredible flatness combine in a perfect storm of bicycling goodness. But I have some bad news, just because you rode a bike as a kid doesn't mean you know how to ride a bike safely. I should actually rephrase that...just because you rode a bike as a kid doesn't mean you know how to ride a bike without aggravating the shit out of me. So here are some tips on how to ride a bike without sending me into a complete, hulk-out rage.

So you just blew 300 of your parents dollars on one of those cool cruiser bikes (good choice, those things are both highly efficient and on the cutting edge of fashion) and you ride off towards your dorm. You decide to show off your new purchase to all those folks shopping downtown so you head north on Broadway. The fiery glare you see coming from me isn't one of jealousy at your 'hella sweet new ride', it's because Broadway is a one way street and your dumb ass is riding the wrong way. I know this may sound crazy, but just because you're on a bike doesn't mean you get to ignore basic traffic laws. You see, when someone's turning onto a one-way street they only tend to look into the direction that traffic is flowing before pulling out (with occasional glances for pedestrians, but they ten to be slow, predictable creatures) and then you come riding up from the wrong direction, the car pulls into the street and you get knocked off your bike. Now you may or may not get hurt and your new bike may or may not get fucked beyond repair, these things don't keep me up at night. The worst part of this accident is that now I have to hear from you and your friends that "people in Chico don't know how to drive with bikes in the road." Which isn't the case, you dipshits just don't know how to ride a bike like you aren't competing in the Special Olympics.

A couple other basic traffic laws that would make me less of a crocthety old man if you decided to follow them: Stop signs apply to bikes as well...shocking! Now I don't expect you to come to a complete stop for three seconds or whatever the stupid law actually is. I'm simply asking that you don't blow through them like one of those light bikes from Tron that lack the ability to stop. You know how in England they drive on the wrong side of the road? Well the last time I looked at a map it said we live in the "United Sates of A-fuckin-merica" (I love my map), and over here we drive on the right side of the road...and guess what...this is one of those things that bikes should do as well! Here's a tip, if your riding along and you see the words "Bike Lane" painted on the street upside down, that means your on the wrong side of the fucking road. It's a lot less annoying to everyone around you if you just cross the damn street. Then we wouldn't have to deal with your retarded-homunculus-ass riding the wrong way in the bike lane.

Ok, so you've got your bike, your riding on the correct side of the road, slowing down for stop signs, etc...Your phone starts to ring. It's one of your new friends! You answer the phone, "Hey man what's up?...Oh I just got a new bike!...yeah man I fucking love riding my bike, it's great...Oh man, you should hella get a new bike...Are you going to Ashley's party tonight?...etc..." During this very important conversation you've run through three stop signs, one red light...and you've been swerving all over the bike lane and half the road (making it impossible for everyone behind you to pass your leisurely 4 mph pace). Nothing pisses me off more than people riding their bike while talking on their phone. You already don't know how to ride a fucking bike and I'm surprised you can even stay upright on the thing when your talking on your fucking brain-cancer machine.

So that's about it. If you follow these simple tips then you'll be saving me from a few more ulcers.

Peace, Love and Jet Lounge,
Jeff

Post Script:
When you get better at riding your bike, please don't ride around doing the whole 'look at me, i can ride my bike without using my hands' thing. I thought that was impressive once...when I was five.

And oh yeah, the next time someone calls me "Lance Armstrong" when I'm riding my bike home from the bars, heads are gonna roll

The Real Jeff Orr, posts when he feels like it damit!

2008-08-19T20:18:00.000-07:00

Summer's almost over and that means that Chico's respite from the student population is almost at an end. It's a damn shame because I really enjoy Chico with a rather diminished student population. Now I get to deal with idiots who don't know how to ride a bike, talking on their cell phones while not knowing how to ride a bike (edit: being called "Lance Armstrong" no less than three times while riding your bike home from the bars gets old rather fast too). Also, my circle of friends in Chico has grown one ratio smaller with the departure of one Emile Clark, who's heading off to the land of ports. Hopefully she decides to visit more than Curt...and I don't think the bar can be set much lower than once...when I wasn't even in Chico.

The last studentless weekend of the summer turned out to be one of the best. Katie works at the study abroad office, which is awesome because we get to be some of the first people international students hang out with...forever shaping their opinions about what Americans are truly like. Friday night we hung out with them and I managed to sprain my ankle something fierce while leaving the Bear...the story involves a lot of alcohol, a crowded walkway, and an empty bench.

On Saturday I finally stopped wishing my body existed in a dimension different from the one my consciousness was occupying, when KT and MLE invited me to The Olive Garden for some endless soup, salad and breadsticks. Afterward we convinced six internationalites to take a trip to Bearhole. We had to stop at Target first to pick up some swimsuits. The general reaction to Target was one of...perplexity. "I a store like this with so many different things...common in United States?" I was asked. "There's about 4 of stores like these in every town the size of Chico" I replied to widened (Japanese) eyes. After suite buying it was Bearhole time, which is always nice. Then dinner at Katsu's and some karaoke. The internationals declined our invitation to 80's night at LaSalle's...asking us, "Does everyone in chico have this much energy?" I told him American food pumps you so full of hormones and preservatives that we don't need to sleep.

Sunday marked the aforementioned Emilie Clark's last day in Chico. It started with a delicious champagne brunch...which can only lead to one of two thing...a nap, or more champagne. Being that this is from Chico and that naps are for four year olds, we chose the latter. Swimming/dance party at KT's new digs. Rock band and vodka-tonic-clemantine's at my place. Food and margaritas at Tres. Sleeping and hurried last minute packing at MLE's. Somehow KT managed to find some of that famed Chico Energy and drove MLE to the airport at 5 in the am...the work from 8 am to 7 pm (if memory serves, correct me of your feat was even more amazing)

So Jeff (you're no doubt asking) how is your ankle? Well don't worry. It turns out awesome sideburns aren't the only thing I share with Wolverine...I'm also rather adept at healing.

The Real Jeff Orr, is the human rooster

2008-07-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

Something strange has been happening to me every day for the past two months. I've been waking up at 8 in the morning...every day...without the use of an alarm clock. It doesn't matter what time I go to sleep, 11pm...3am...I'll be waking up within 3 minutes of 8 the morning. Maybe it's my mutant power starting to manifest. Only instead of some wicked power like gravity manipulation or lazer-face, I get this weak ass rooster based ability of always waking up at the same time.

The Real Jeff Orr, smokes two wild fires in the morning

2008-07-10T18:50:00.000-07:00

So there were two things this post could have been about: The massive amount of smoke given off by the fires, or the new FISA bill the Senate just passed. Rumor has it the fires could be put out as soon as we start to get some rain (i.e. October) but it looks like the massive shit the FISA bill took on the Constitution's going to create a pretty deep stain that's gonna be there for a while. So I'm going with the topic that's effects me most in the short term.

Other than a few days of clear sky around the 4th of July, Chico's been incredibly smokey since late June. Ash was drifting down from the sky on Tuesday, the sky is an eery orange color, and douchebags ride their bikes/jog with masks on.

This was taken today, the forecast called for completely clear skies...so that's pretty much all smoke.

Sometimes it's so bad that 80% of the people drive with their headlights on. The other 20% are the folks who only begrudgingly turn their headlights on after official sunset...no matter what the outside environment may be like...smoke, heavy rain, or Steven King's horrifying mists.

There are two upsides though. The smoke does cut into the extreme heat. What should have been 110 degree temperatures were only 100...with a nice cool 72 degree low coming sometime around 5 in the morning. The other upside is that Superman can't control us with his super-fascism because we no longer have a yellow sun for him to draw power from. That shit is redder than Jan Fonda.

The real Jeff Orr, bitches about crappy design part 2

2008-07-05T20:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, this one's been bugging me ever since some out-of-town-goober almost ran into me by turning the wrong way onto 9th st (a one way for all you non-goober out-of-towners). Whoever designed the "One Way" street sign must have been coming up on a deadline after a month long bender in some liquor soaked town without any one-way streets. Sweating the loss of his job and his sole source of booze money he drew an arrow around the words "One Way" and slammed it on his manager's desk.

"Hmm...so the arrow could just be reversed if the road is going the other way?" asked his boss.

"Ummm...I guess so...?" replies the designer, his mind thick with the congealed residue of God knows what hallucinogens.

And this is how we're left with the wussiest road sign ever conceived. Black and white and wholly unobtrusive. A sign that should be screaming, "HEY! ASSHOLE! THE CARS ON THIS ROAD ARE ALL TRAVELING THE SAME WAY! IF YOU TURN RIGHT/LEFT YOU'LL DIE IN A FIERY CAR CRASH AND YOUR FRIENDS AREN'T EVEN HERE TO FILM IT AND PUT IT ON YOUTUBE!!" Instead the sign just kind of mumbles when nobodies paying attention, "Hey, I think I heard that this is a one way road...so you might not want to...you're not listening...oh well..."

The placement of these signs is always really shitty as well. They're always placed out of the way, where nobody who's doing anything important while driving (i.e. anything other than pay attention to shitty street signs) will ever see them in the first place. This combined with its complete lack of self confidence as a sign leads me to believe that the One Way sign is the awkward kid that nobody wants to hang out with in the street sign world. They invite him to parties because they know he won't drink and can be suckered into giving everyone a ride home.

*note: The Stop sign is telling some lame Jay Leno joke and the Yield sign is laughing because he's a suck-up

So this is the part of these posts where I make some suggestions on how to improve the design. Honestly the One Way sign just needs a way to make people pay attention to it. So I'd probably just add a rockin pair of tits to the bottom.

The Real Jeff Orr, won't give in to monopoly so easily

2008-06-28T15:16:00.001-07:00

A little background info:

I recently moved into my new thoroughly radical house. This new house has one drawback...my xbox is now about 50 feet away from our router instead of the 3 feet it was in my old place. This is a problem because; a)there's some choice new songs to download for Rockband from the Pixies (the entire Doolittle album) and Weezer (the two decent songs and one awesome song from their new record) b)Microsoft, in all their wisdom, decided to build a console that doesn't have wifi support out of the box, and c)I don't want to run an ugly ass ethernet cable across our living room, dining room and half my bedroom.

Luckily the fine folks at Microsoft provided a solution with the "Xbox Wireless Network Adaptor". I thought that this thing would be about $20-$30, a little pricey for my tastes bu still worth it. Imagine my surprise when I went to Best Buy and discovered that my estimate was about $80 short. That's right, the only thing that will connect my $350 xbox wirelessly to the internet is a $100 piece of plastic and circuitry. "Man...fuck that shit," I mumbled as I walked out the door.

Well, unfortunately for Microsoft, this isn't the only way to connect your xbox to wireless router dozens of feet away. Turns out you can hook your computer up to your xbox with an ethernet cable, change a few network settings, and bam! you've just turned your computer into a "wireless network adaptor" for your xbox. Sure you have to turn you computer on every time you want to go online with your xbox, but it's definitely worth it.

This is a prime example that even though you have a monopoly, you can't just charge anything you want. If that adaptor had run $30 I would have bought it after a bit of hemming and/or hawing and I'm sure Microsoft would have made a bit of profit. Instead they drove me to look for alternate solutions and made zero profit.

So if anyone wants to come over and play some Rock Band my new place has a pretty sweet setup for it. I'll even let you try to sing Debaser if you want.

Post Script
Alternate titles for this post:
The Real Jeff Orr, is un un chien andalusia
The Real Jeff Orr, is the greatest man who ever lived

The Real Jeff Orr, laughs at change

2008-06-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

Please tell me I'm not the only one who finds the Utah State Quarter to be incredibly phallic and therefor extremely hilarious.

The Real Jeff Orr,moves to a new place

2008-06-14T15:23:00.000-07:00

Status update!

It's that time of the year again. I'm moving! So I've kept my streak of moving to a new place once a year alive. This year I had to move because my landlord decided that he wants to make some major renovations to the house, so he didn't offer to renew my lease. My new place is this huge 7 bedroom house on Hobart between 1st and 2nd ave. I'll post some pictures of my room soon because it's pretty much the most awesome room I've ever lived in. It's about 25' by 15', it's split level (you walk in on a smaller landing then walk down three stairs to the other part of the room) and it has it's own sink and shower...in the room! The house itself has a nice porch, huge bakyard with a treehouse, 2 kitchens, and around three living-roomish type rooms.

Now that I've got such a big room I'm in need of some stuff to fill up the space. I'm saving up some money for a trip to Ikea in the coming months...there's a bookcase named Billy that I'd like to take home. Also, one of these would really make the room complete.

In non-moving-related news, I'm coming down to Camarillo for a few days. I'll be flying down Friday (the 20th) morning. Then my aunt's having some big party Saturday with a steel drum band and margarita bar and all kinds of fun shit...hit me up if you want an invite to this very exclusive event. I'm flying back on Monday so I won't really have much time to hang out.

Weezer just came out with a new album and dispite a couple noteable songs it's more or less a major dissa...well...I guess it's not technically a dissapointment when you weren't really expecting much.

The Real Jeff Orr, does a favor for a friend

2008-06-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

So my friend Katie is in Thailand. I guess she's having some trouble posting pictures, so she sent me a couple of pictures and captions and asked me to post them. I gladly oblige.

On last Sunday we got to play with some baby elephants...they were a lot smaller than I thought they would be...

After the elephants we went to a place that lets you play with baby tigers. They were delicious.

The real Jeff Orr, bitches about crappy design part 1

2008-06-02T20:38:00.000-07:00

As I wander around this reality there are a lot of things that I see which are just...poorly thought out. Often times nobody's around to hear my comment on them, so I store them inside and wait until a lull in some conversation that I can assert my clever observation. I've pretty much come to the conclusion that this makes me sound like some sort of whiny weirdo. So I'm taking them to the one place where complaining about minute annoyances is acceptable and encouraged, the internet.

Week one:

At the Safeway on Mangrove is a contraption of such inane stupidity that it not only boggles the mind, it scrabbles and candy-lands it as well. Some half-retarded manatee at Safeway decided that they need to redesign the shopping cart corral. What was once two simple railings spaced slightly further apart than the width of the shopping cart itself has become...this...

Now at first glance this looks at least somewhat innocuous...that is until you notice that it's built on a slope...with the open end downhill. Everyday when I get off work I see a couple carts in the middle of the parking lot, having escaped their confines by cleverly rolling backwards. Old ladies, their bones weekend by osteoporosis and years of meth addiction, spend hours trying to convince their cart to stay in the corral...finally coming to the conclusion that the best solution is to wedge it in behind the trash can.

I'm pretty sure whoever came up with this design had a mom who sent him to school with a sign pinned to the front of his shirt reading, "Please don't tease my son, his father is a frozen neanderthal and I drank more than Andre the Giant while pregnant."

The solution to this problem is pretty simple. Either put another railing down the center of this shit...or...you know...move it to the other side of the row so the back is downhill...

On a completely unrelated note my friend Katie's in Thailand. If she decides to stop living in the real world and visit the virtual one you can read about her journey on her blog.

The Real Jeff Orr, is made of 100% renewable resources

2008-05-07T22:33:00.000-07:00

Whoever is in charge of marketing corn these days is a fucking genius. There are food riots taking place in parts of the world and we've been convinced that using the shit to fuel our cars is a great idea. Now we've even got corn based "plastic" cups that are biodegradable, which I admit is pretty cool. The fine people behind corn seem to have fully jumped aboard this whole green-washing fad that's swept through our culture. It seems like every company is presenting itself as "eco-friendly"... no matter how ridiculously impossible it might seem...

But the grand prize definitely goes to corn. Today at work I saw a product that boggles the fucking mind. Socks...made out of corn. Touted as, "biodegradable" and made from, "100% renewable resources". Finally I can stop wearing these socks that are destroying America's old-growth cotton forests! Has this whole green revolution really made us this retarded? When canned pancakes can be marketed as "organic" then the answer is one fat nondegradable yes.

The Real Jeff Orr, continues his replica-ruminations

2008-05-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

If you haven't already then you'll want to go read my first post before continuing.

Over the past few years I've often pondered the reasons for the existence of multiple "Jeff Orrs". Be they impostors who merely wish to use my name to profit from my prolific reputation, or dopplegangers whom I've never met but am assured "look just like me." This posting shall concern itself with the later and more mysterious of the two.

Theories as to how these beings could possibly exist fill my mind in much the same way nitrogen, the unsung hero of the stratos, fills the atmosphere of our lovely blue-green orb. My most recent theory has roots stretching back to 2004, when a few dear friends of mine sagely recommended a novel that would alter my perception of reality.

Flatland, the 1884 masterpiece of Edwin A. Abbot, follows the life of a simple square living in the second spatial dimension. The first half of the book has our quadrilateral narrator explaining the workings of a two dimensional world. In the second portion of the book our friendly square is visited by a sphere from the third dimension. Of course our square is trapped in a dimensionally lacking existence and only perceives the sphere as a circle the expands and contrasts as it passes through his plane of perception. I shan't bore you with any more of the books details as this may detract from your own enjoyment of the work, plus I really should be moving on with this entry.

Needless to say the book sparked an interest in extra spacial dimensions beyond our paltry three. I came to the realization that whoever first claimed time to be the fourth dimension must have been under the influence of marijuana cigarettes. One might as well claim the fourth dimension to be a tuna sandwich.

My theory is that extra spacial dimensions exist and that I am merely part of a multi dimensional being existing across the entire spectrum. The Jeff Orr that you usually interact with is the one rooted in the third dimension. The other "Jeff Orrs" that I've been told of are parts of my being that exist beyond our perception and are simply "passing through" our reality, much in the same way we pass through the reality of two dimensional beings from time to time. This is why other "Jeff Orrs" are always seen in close proximity to myself and always "look just like me".

I rather enjoy this theory, as it doesn't imply anything villainous about these other versions of myself, they are merely part of the nature of my being. However, I'm afraid that this is one the more benign theories I have on the subject and from here on out things will only get more sinister.

-Trans-dimensionally yours,
The Real Jeff Orr

The Real Jeff Orr: Gives Some Advice To The Local Media

2008-04-25T10:30:00.000-07:00

If you're doing a news story about the library's censorship of pornography, then you might want to avoid saying, "...leaving the current policy firmly in place." That is...unless you want me to giggle like I'm 13.

...that is all...

The Real Jeff Orr: Notices Random Shit

2008-04-23T19:14:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed that they updated the stencil for the bike lane guy? They gave him a helmet...

Now I could go into a big long rant about how this symbolizes our governments long decline into a "nanny state" and blah, blah, blah...snoooozer. I'll simply tell you that my first reaction upon seeing this updated symbol was, "Why did they turn the bike guy into a Chinaman?"

...my second reaction was that the person in charge of bike-lane-signage must hate bicyclists and was trying to subliminally tell everyone that, "Bike riding is for dickheads"

The Real Jeff Orr: Gushes Over TMBG Once Every Two Years

2008-04-12T22:15:00.000-07:00

I got Netflix back in January and added a ton of stuff to my queue. Four months later and I pretty much have no idea whats coming to me as I return movies. So on Thursday along comes a little documentary that I haven't seen in years. Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns, the documentary about They Might Be Giants. The documentary is fantastic, but it always has the rather nasty (for those in close proximity to me) side effect of rekindling my love of TMBG. I rummage through my completely dishevled CD collection and pull out all their old stuff and give it a listen. Going back and listening to songs you loved years ago and hearing them from a different perspective is sometimes really incredible. Sometimes you come away with a completely different interpretation of the song and sometimes the song just transports you back to the state of mind you were in years ago when you listened to it over and over. The thing I really enjoy about TMBG is that your constantly discovering new things about their songs and when you finally "get" the "meaning" of a song it gives a real feeling of satisfaction. Their songs are so light and seemingly inconsequential that I never really bother trying to find any hidden meanings, so when I finally gain a deeper understanding about a song it's like it comes out of left field. Then there's just this torrent of understanding about the song that causes all the other parts to make sense on a completely different level. It's almost like putting together a puzzle and your about to put the final piece in only to realize that there's something on the back of the piece, so you turn another piece over and notice that there's something on the back of that piece as well. So you flip the entire puzzle over and realize that you've been looking at this thing from the side, and now all the pieces all mixed up again and you have to reconstruct it. When you finally put this puzzle together again you're completely baffled that, not only did it work out but the picture it creates is ten times more beautiful then you first thought. I still remember being blown away when I realized that Birdhouse In Your Sole is about a night light...I just sat there with a wild look in my eyes saying, "Bullshit! Bullshit!..." over and over again.

I think this is why I love things like Futurama and Arrested Development. Going back and viewing things again with a new understanding is simply divine. Oh yeah...and a good pun is one of my favorite guilty pleasures.

My rediscovering of TMBG is unfortunate for those around me because if you happen to catch me in a rather chatty mood I will not only talk your ear off about, but I will then take your ear home with me and add it to my ever growing ear collection. I also make long pointless posts that I don't bother proof reading...and that don't have satisfactory endings...

The Real Jeff Orr, goes on vacation, step 6: The Return

2008-03-23T11:13:00.001-07:00

So after the longest Saturday of my life (technically 40 hours) I am back in California. As you may have noticed my posting quickly tapered off. This was mostly because of two things. One, I was busy having fun in Tokyo. Two, as Pat will tell you (at length if you dare ask him), blogspot utterly blows for posting lots of pictures. Now that I'm back in the states I have some time to post some of my adventures in Tokyo...but I'd much rather tell you in person, preferably at a bar or party. Here's a few last pics to give you an idea of what our time was spent on.

Shrine seeing

Fun Japanese folk meeting

Karaoke singing

Drunken playgrounding

Waking up after drunken playgrounding

Studio Ghilbi Museum visiting

Tokyo Tower viewing

Serene rock sitting
That's it, now I can get back to some more important matters in life...like reading Dune...and catching up on the episodes of Lost I missed.

The Real Jeff Orr, goes on vacation, step 5: The Birthday

2008-03-17T23:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Mikey's birthday. We did another nomihodai and then met up with some really fun Japanese people. We didn't end up making it back to Mikey's until around 6:30 in the morning. I'm not really feeling up to posting right now so I'll just let this one picture speak for the entire night.

The Real Jeff Orr, goes on vacation, step 4: The Parade

2008-03-16T20:10:00.000-07:00

So it turns out my phone can shoot 15 sec of video at a time...it also turns out we snuck into the St Patrick's Day Parade in Harajuku. The two collided to bring you today's post.

Unfortunately my camera doesn't have a mic so I'll have to describe the sounds you should be hearing. Most of the people watching the parade were generally quite with the odd group of drunken Irish cheering every now and then. In the background there was a battle of music between a highschool marching band playing the Back to the Future theme and a group of Japanese men playing the bagpipes. In the end of the video I explain that we had somehow made it into the parade.

The Real Jeff Orr, goes on vacation, step 3: Tokyo

2008-03-14T17:14:00.000-07:00

Quick post full of pictures

Day 1

On the train ride into Tokyo I was almost destroyed by a Kamehameha blast

This is the view from Mikey's room...basically his back yard is full of dead Buddhists

Five minutes after getting into Tokyo Pat partakes in the local culture

Japanese arcades are pretty wicked...mostly because you can drink and smoke in them.

Towards the end of the night we had a few beers with this cat...what happened next is a bit hazy though

Trying to follow my Mom's advice to not look retarded in every picture

Day 2:

On our way to Japanese Denny's

This is the cities main municipal building...its pretty much one of the tallest buildings left in Tokyo after they passed an ordinance against them in 1985. They were just attracting way too many monsters

This guy had a PA system on top of his car so he's pretty much like the Blues Brothers...only instead of inviting people to a kickass concert he's spouting a bunch of hateful anti-american nationalist stuff. Pat got a picture with him.

SMILE!

We found this pretty cool little cafe called the Cafe Cotton Club...its coolness to emptiness ratio was off the charts

We ended the day at the Horse Shoe Cantina where I was forced to abandon my horse

The Real Jeff Orr, goes on vacation, step 2: The Flight

2008-03-12T16:50:00.000-07:00

So I'm posting this from Mikey's place in Japan, it's about 9am here and Pat and Mikey are srill asleep...the O'Riley clan are know for their prodigious ability to slumber...conversely, the Orr's are relatively early risers.

Getting to Japan was pretty fun but I'm sure you don't really want to read all the hairy details about the plane ride so I'll bust it down into a few bullet points.

Pat and I didn't actually have an actual ticket for any actual flight

Pat's mom worked for American Airlines for years so we were on some "no-res" list or whatever Pat calls it

This means we get to take whatever seats are left over for as cheap as free.

We had to fly to Texas first because there weren't any seats left on CA to JP flights.

Two planes leaving to TX at the same time, we would be #s 17 and 18 on either flight's stand by list
Pat and I choose the correct flight and are rewarded with literally the last two seats on the flight

The fact that these two seats were next to each other was merely an omen of the fortuitous road ahead

Five hour lay-over in TX

Plane isn't nearly as full
Pat somehow manages to snag us the last two first class seats on the plane

I'll probably post again in a day or so with a shit ton of pictures. We're in the Asakusa neighborhood, so if you know anything around here that we have to try then let me know.

The Real Jeff Orr, goes on vacation, step 1: the drive

2008-03-09T15:26:00.000-07:00

So I made the drive down to Southern California and I have one thing to say, "Fuck Yuba City." Every time I drive down the 99 I dread the ten minutes I have to spend in that godless shit-hole (is shit-hole hyphenated?). The highway through Yuba city is always under some sort of construction and is always full of more potholes than Rip Torn's grizzled visage. Whenever I drive through there I get a slight glimmer of hope that the two lanes might allow me to pass some of the slower traffic. However, the facts that the stop lights in that demon-pit are fucking schizophrenic and the drivers there are borderline retarded, always results in me getting stuck behind even more slow cars than when I entered this Mos Eisley of the north state.

Aside from the trip through Fuckwitville the drive was decent, I think I come up with some of my most interesting ideas on long solo drives. I've got a couple new theories on how fake Jeff Orr's could exist. One of them involves an alternate time-line/time-traveling witness protection program, I'll post it when it's more fleshed out.

Monday night I fly to Texas with Pat, sit around the Dallas airport for a few hours, then fly to Japan at some ungodly hour on Tuesday morning.

The Real Jeff Orr, gives a sub-par post

2008-03-06T09:47:00.000-08:00

Here's some things that the real Jeff Orr has been enjoying recently:

Professor Layton and the Curious Village. A game on the DS that is entirely hand drawn and is all about solving puzzles. Although the puzzles aren't the hardest in the world, there are a few head scratchers and the animation is pretty wicked.

Wizard People, Dear Read. This is hands down the funniest fucking thing to come out since 2004. Brad Neely, of Washington, Washington fame, recorded an alternate naration for the first Harry Potter movie. You download the track, play the movie with the sound turned down and play his narration at the same time. I'm bringing it with me when I head down south Saturday, so if you're in Camarillo then resist the urge to youtube this shit because we'll do it up right sometime soon. If you're in Chico then I'm planning a screening when I get back into town later this month.

Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase For Lincoln's Killer. This book may very well turn me into something I detest. The story behind Lincoln's assasination is so fascinating that I can't help talking about it. Soon I'll become "that-guy-at-the-party-who-only-talks-about-Abe-Lincoln" and that scares the shit out of me.

VACATION! If you didn't already know, I'm going on vacation for the next few weeks. Pat and I are going to Japan to visit his brother. If our plane crashes then we aren't dead, we're just on some mysterious island trying to come up with interesting and convoluted back stories so we can fit in with all the other assholes on the island.

The Real Jeff Orr, an introduction

2008-03-02T13:39:00.000-08:00

What's the deal with "the real Jeff Orr"?

For years I had blissfully walked through life without even the slightest notion that this seemingly bright and clear world could hold vile beings in its dark and murky depths. Then, in high school, I started to get a feeling that something was amiss. I heard rumors of another boy, one year older than me, who "looked just like" me. I never actually met this wraith face to face, but numerous people informed me of his existence. Somewhat perplexed, I devoted some free time to exploring the circumstances that could create "another me". Through the years I studied the sciences that are only discussed in the fringes of society and I've developed a number of theories. I'll save those for a later date, for this is simply a brief overview of my experiences with fake Jeff Orr's.

The high school dopple ganger never really caused me any serious inconvenience and after a few years my interest in alternate Jeff Orr's started to wane. That is, until my sophomore year in college. Creating a personal website was all the rage in my circle of friends and after the success of devlindonnelly.com (now defunct) and curtbanner.com I decided to join the scene. However, I soon realized that jefforr.com was in use, by a man proclaiming to be me! Not only was this impostor using my name to further his lot in life, he was using the website to promote his wedding! I feel a great deal of sorrow for the young lady, for she no doubt believed she was marrying the real deal. Not only was this thing using my domain name, but he sat on it for years. Long after his sham of a wedding his site still existed, announcing a wedding that was now only available to time travelers.

Months ago I received a friend request on the highly acclaimed social networking site Myspace. It was from none other than Jeff Orr. At first I was a little put off at the thought of being "friends" with a fake me. Then I came to the realization that he was a musical artist. Things were starting to look better, perhaps there were people out there doing cool things under my name. But my hopes were quickly dashed against the jagged shores of reality. This musician Jeff Orr was of the worst variety, he was a middle-age-still-trying-to-look-hip-douchey-wuss-christian-rock-musician. He has also taken over jefforr.com. Visit the site if you want to feel some of my hate radiating through the internet. I have more to say on the subject of this, my most hated duplicate, but I shall save it for a later post.

After the "rock star" (quotation marks denote irony, not an actual quotation) Jeff Orr incident I decided that I could not take this in passivity. I must act fast and let the world know that I am the real Jeff Orr. I'll be using this web-log to inform the world of my many theories on the subject (which include multiple varieties of time travel, cloning, alternate spatial dimensions, and the awesome paradox). This site will also chronicle my existence so that the world may bear witness to the actions of the one true Jeff Orr.

Until my next electronic communique,
I remain,
The Real Jeff Orr