I got a thing for cool looking toilets. What can I say? I'd like most of these to be in Barbie's Dream House except for that face-to-face absurdity. Who thought that was a good idea? And I am not using that hand lotion!!! That last shot I swore I saw the last time I was at Robert Mapplethorpe's house.


Web Junkie

Steve West scours the Web searching for interest or absurdity and then shakes his head ruefully when he finds it. Read more »

Christmas Post #13: Gettin' Shamed At Christmas

Stop motion clip of some passed out guy ultimately getting wrapped in a string of Christmas lights. I laughed until I passed out. Merry Christmas drunk dude! Go »

Dumb Criminals And Other Court Type Stuff Part 3

Another small collection of weird legal matters. Yeah research, that's the ticket; Too manly for the ladies' room; Chi-tonw blues; Cat's got yer what?; and finally, I have no idea what it's like to be busted for DUI, taken for mugshots wearing a shirt displaying my love for midget sex, and then being forever haunted by that image surfacing on the internet, but I know who to ask. Go »

Tale Of The Mediocre Football Fan

Last Thursday, Brenda and I went to the final preseason football game of the Washington Redskins. The game was less than meaningful (as is the nature of preseason football) because rarely do actual starters play in the final preseason game. But the tickets and parking were free (gift from a friend), and it gave Brenda and I an opportunity to have an evening for just the two of us, a rarity for most parents. Go »

Do Pumpkins Exist Outside Of These Fall Holidays?

They should. I love the taste of homemade pumpkin pie. I almost didn't marry Brenda when she told me she couldn't make one but I thankfully reconsidered. Go »

A Story Without Words

I can't imagine being disfigured as an adult. I've read articles and seen pictorials of veterans wounded in the war and losing a limb or being disfigured by fire. And then those soldiers coming home to their fiancées to be married. Go »

Christmas and a Lizard's Tale

One Christmas when Lauren was eight, like a lot of girls her age, wished for a pony. My backyard at the time was about the size of a Volkswagen Minibus. Despite her assurances that she would let it roam the neighborhood for sufficient exercise, I said, “Not this year,” as I pictured myself following the horse with a pooper scooper. Go »