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Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.

Unless you're as bored as I am.

There’s nothing like moving to make you realize you have way too much crap.

My girlfriend and I recently moved into a house together, and we have too … much … crap. We have so much crap that I can’t locate the stuff that isn’t crap because of all the crap. For instance, I can only find one pair of shoes, and I’ve been re-washing the same two pairs of underwear and socks for a week because I can’t find the rest.

Here’s how bad it is: We actually lost a cat for a couple days.

I’m not kidding. We brought it to the house, it immediately hid and we continued moving. A couple days later, we wondered aloud, “Where’s the cat?” We looked and we looked and we looked, leaving no box or piece of furniture uninvestigated. I mean, the damn cat was gone.

My girlfriend was sad and distraught, convinced her timid little pet had escaped while we were hauling in furniture and boxes. (I distinctly remember her saying at dinner, “I know I lose my keys sometimes, but I’ve never lost a pet before.” Excellent point.)

Later that evening, however, she did one more search and, lo and behold, found kitty. Where? Inside a kitchen cabinet over the microwave. And the cabinet doors were even closed. How he got in there, we’ll never know. But there he was, safe and sound, if a little freaked out by the whole ordeal.

But you get the picture – moving is chaotic, especially when you have lots and lots of useless crap. I have a radio that looks like a small jukebox. It’s crap, but I can’t make myself get rid of it. I have a Miller High Life bar mirror. Yeah, it’s crap, but I can’t seem to let it go. I have a record collection that includes an album by a group called the Slammin’ Watusis. It’s crap, but there it still is.

My girlfriend, god bless her, has an old 8-track player and two orange traffic cones.

Crap.

So what did we do this past weekend? Went out and bought more crap. We bought a welcome mat for the front door, a throw for the couch and we discussed at some length what kind of entertainment center we eventually want. We decided we’ll place it in the living room, right next to all the CRAP.

Seriously, in the spring we’re going to have a giant crap sale, so hopefully our neighbors will come over and take away some of the crap so we will have room to buy newer crap. I’m going to get out a big piece of white posterboard and markers, and make a big sign that says, “Crap Sale: Please Buy Our Crap.”

That is, if I can find the markers. Last time I saw them, they were with my socks.

E-mail me at kgramone@aol.com. But no attachments please; I have as much crap on my computer as in my house.