It has finally happened and it ended the way it should...with Mr. Perfect on the mound.
I need time to soak it in and enjoy before recording some thoughts. But in the mean time...some pics that will live forever...
Thursday, October 30, 2008
WORLD CHAMPS!!!
It has finally happened and it ended the way it should...with Mr. Perfect on the mound.
I need time to soak it in and enjoy before recording some thoughts. But in the mean time...some pics that will live forever...
Thursday, October 9, 2008
1980s sacrilege...
I am committing the highest of all blasphemies against the gods of the 80s by posting this video. What represents that hallowed decade more than the video for Ah-Ha's song Take on Me? Poofy hair, bad clothes, senseless plot, electric piano...
If you are laughing, it is because you know it's true.
If anthropologists thousands of years from now found this video on a decaying cassette and tried to piece together the song that inspired it, I imagine what you see below would come pretty close to what they would reproduce.
Enjoy...
Embedded Video
If you are laughing, it is because you know it's true.
If anthropologists thousands of years from now found this video on a decaying cassette and tried to piece together the song that inspired it, I imagine what you see below would come pretty close to what they would reproduce.
Enjoy...
Embedded Video
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Friday, October 3, 2008
Godspeed, members of the 261st Signal Brigade
This is my good friend Mike holding my daughter earlier today. We were at the deployment ceremony for Mike and 114 other member's of Delaware's 261st Theater Tactical Signal Brigade in Dover. Tomorrow the men and women of the 261st will depart for Texas, leaving home and family, job and place of worship. From Texas it will be onto the Middle East.
I needed to take a moment here to express my deep felt gratitude, respect, and sense of awe for these amazing people. Up to this point, the war has largely been academic for me. I have watched the news, read the papers, debated this or that on-line, but it has always been in a detached sort of way, the way I study history from centuries past.
Today that all changed.
It changed in the resolute and determined looks of men and women voluntarily leaving home and family to travel halfway across the world and placing themselves in harms way. It changed in the tears that dripped from the eyes of family members, tears a mystifying combination of fierce pride and deep sadness. It changed with the farewell hug of a friend I will not see for many months.
It changed.
It touched me today in the way it has touched thousands upon thousands of families. It is no longer academic. It sits with me here in my kitchen as I type, in the form of a dark green cross and set of prayer beads that hang on my wall, a daily reminder to pray not only for the Mike and his fellow soldiers in the 261st, but all men and women, serving this country on foreign soil and here at home. A daily reminder to pray also for their families, who make deep sacrifices as well, missing the person who should be filling that empty kitchen chair on a daily basis.
Mike thanked me for coming today, as did many of the other soldiers I met.
But it is I who thank them. Not only for their brave actions, which no awkward words of mine could ever express the depth of gratitude I feel. But also for their example. Their selfless, courageous, amazing example.
If you are someone who is inclined to pray, I ask you to stop right now and pray for our soldiers. Thank God for them, pray for their safety, and pray comfort for their families. And when you see a soldier, in the mall, on the street, in your neighborhood...stop and say thank you. Express your appreciation.
You will never meet someone who deserves it more.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Just when you thought it was safe to say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious...
Finally...a Mary Poppins I can get on board with...
"The power of Chim, Chim compels you...The power of Chim, Chim compels you..."
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Save Superman's Birth Place
I know...for the four of you that follow this blog (love you mom) I apologize for my absence. Start up of a new school year is always hectic and fraught with peril. I want to write...my desire for sleep says otherwise. Soon the schedule will settle down and I can go back to filling my blog with random brain droppings.
In the mean time, check out this cool video I found over at Neil Gaiman's blog. I have not been a huge comic fan since the days of my misspent youth but hey...this is Super Frigging Man we are talking about here.
Spread the word.
Leave me a comment telling me your favorite Superman moment.
Or just leave me a comment with the recipe for your favorite ancient Mongolian dessert.
In the mean time, check out this cool video I found over at Neil Gaiman's blog. I have not been a huge comic fan since the days of my misspent youth but hey...this is Super Frigging Man we are talking about here.
Spread the word.
Leave me a comment telling me your favorite Superman moment.
Or just leave me a comment with the recipe for your favorite ancient Mongolian dessert.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Sunday, August 17, 2008
The drugs took my calendar and they won't give it back...
How did this happen? How is it August 17th already? The last 3 weeks or so have been a blur, a drug induced, swollen, sixties absorbing, hill billy praising blur. Where the hell has the time gone? Let's look at the highlights...
July 22 - Hernia Surgery
Ah yes...hernia surgery. This experience was about as much fun as a rectal examine performed by Captain Hook...and probably just as painful. The day of the surgery went well. They got me in, knocked me out, cut me open, patched me up, then waited until I pissed in a quart jar. Once my urine filling obligations were complete, I was given a prescription for Percoset and then sent home. The next five days were an odyssey of swollen testicles, drug induced constipation, rapidly cooling ice packs, and the not quite unpleasant fuzzy brained addledness that comes from the joy of two percosets taken every four hours or so. I won't make you loose your lunch with specific details of my experience such as the rapture of the first bowel movement I was able to have in DAYS. Percoset apparently stops the works in the large intestine. I am not quite sure why this happens and I am too tired to read up on the inner workings of my bowels. Just take my word for it when I tell you that lot's of percoset = a New York City sized back up of your inner workings. It took three days for the jam to resolve itself but when it did, it was one of the most joyous occasions in my life. It occurred on July 25th and I am not kidding...it was practically a religious experience, one which my limited writing skills would never to be able to do justice. Let's simply leave it at saying that hernia surgery was an experience I would pay great deals of money to never have to go through again.
July 28 - August 1 - University Project
I then spent the next week (still pretty heavily doped up) at the University working on a history project for teachers. It involved "modern history" which in this case meant primarily talking about "The Sixties". I found this amusing as I myself was pretty heavily drugged for most of it. It was a great week (except for the pain and my persistently swollen left testicle...which made sitting for hours at a time a very unpleasant experience) and I did really learn quite a lot, drugs or no drugs.
August 2 - August 11 - Trip to the Midwest
Every other year my wife's family has a reunion in Branson, Missouri. Up until two years ago I had never even heard of Branson. I was struggling for a way to describe Branson for those who have never gotten a chance to visit. I decided to use two quotes from The Simpsons instead. First are the lyrics to a song sung on the Episode called The Old Man and the Key in which Bart is dragged to Branson by Grandpa.
And second is a quote by Homer on that very same episode...
"Branson is just like Las Vegas would be if it was run by Flanders."
Oh. So. True.
We didn't only go to Branson. We also visited Wichita, Tulsa, and the long stretches of highway between them. It was a nice time spent with family we almost never get to see. The roads in Tulsa are epically horrible. For more on that click here.
Also in Tulsa we spent some time (almost an hour) at a great bookstore called Gardner's. I am usually not a huge fan of used book stores but this place is awesome. It is a huge store with the largest selection of new and used books I have ever seen in one place. And they don't just do books. They also sell comic books, graphic novels, and VHS and DVD movies. There is a coffee shop in one end of the store and a Mexican restaurant in the other. They are an independently owned bookstore which makes them cool as cucumbers in my book. If you are ever in Tulsa Oklahoma, looking for a relief from the brain rattling roads, Gardner's needs to be a stop. I truly wish they were closer to Delaware.
All in all it was a great vacation.
And now here I sit, at the beach, with the start of another school year just three days away. You will be happy to know that the pain from the hernia surgery is pretty much gone, the giggle berries are back to their proper size and proportions, the nightmares of an all night Yakov Smirnov, Andy Williams tag team show are fading, and I did not pull a Favre and get addicted to my pain meds. Life is pretty much back to normal.
Which begs the question...
It's late...why am I still awake?
July 22 - Hernia Surgery
Ah yes...hernia surgery. This experience was about as much fun as a rectal examine performed by Captain Hook...and probably just as painful. The day of the surgery went well. They got me in, knocked me out, cut me open, patched me up, then waited until I pissed in a quart jar. Once my urine filling obligations were complete, I was given a prescription for Percoset and then sent home. The next five days were an odyssey of swollen testicles, drug induced constipation, rapidly cooling ice packs, and the not quite unpleasant fuzzy brained addledness that comes from the joy of two percosets taken every four hours or so. I won't make you loose your lunch with specific details of my experience such as the rapture of the first bowel movement I was able to have in DAYS. Percoset apparently stops the works in the large intestine. I am not quite sure why this happens and I am too tired to read up on the inner workings of my bowels. Just take my word for it when I tell you that lot's of percoset = a New York City sized back up of your inner workings. It took three days for the jam to resolve itself but when it did, it was one of the most joyous occasions in my life. It occurred on July 25th and I am not kidding...it was practically a religious experience, one which my limited writing skills would never to be able to do justice. Let's simply leave it at saying that hernia surgery was an experience I would pay great deals of money to never have to go through again.
July 28 - August 1 - University Project
I then spent the next week (still pretty heavily doped up) at the University working on a history project for teachers. It involved "modern history" which in this case meant primarily talking about "The Sixties". I found this amusing as I myself was pretty heavily drugged for most of it. It was a great week (except for the pain and my persistently swollen left testicle...which made sitting for hours at a time a very unpleasant experience) and I did really learn quite a lot, drugs or no drugs.
August 2 - August 11 - Trip to the Midwest
Every other year my wife's family has a reunion in Branson, Missouri. Up until two years ago I had never even heard of Branson. I was struggling for a way to describe Branson for those who have never gotten a chance to visit. I decided to use two quotes from The Simpsons instead. First are the lyrics to a song sung on the Episode called The Old Man and the Key in which Bart is dragged to Branson by Grandpa.
Ode To Branson
Remember the stars, you loved yesterday?
Where did they go? Did they all pass away?
Was it drugs or a car crush,
or a face lift gone wrong?
No they're right here in Branson
and they're singing, this song!
My name is Charo, I shake my maracas.
Remember me foo, I was BA Barachas.
We're the performers you thought were dead,
like Bonnie Franklin and Adrienne Zmed.
Branson's the place we can always be found.
They took NICK at Night and made it a town.
You can call me Ray or you can call me Jay.
Just don't call me washed up, I do three shows a day.
Charlie Callas doesn't sleep in the ground.
Yes I'm still alive an I'm making me sound.
vup hi vup hala voop voop.
So sit back, relax, and watch our review!
In Soviet Union, review watches you!
Remember the stars, you loved yesterday?
Where did they go? Did they all pass away?
Was it drugs or a car crush,
or a face lift gone wrong?
No they're right here in Branson
and they're singing, this song!
My name is Charo, I shake my maracas.
Remember me foo, I was BA Barachas.
We're the performers you thought were dead,
like Bonnie Franklin and Adrienne Zmed.
Branson's the place we can always be found.
They took NICK at Night and made it a town.
You can call me Ray or you can call me Jay.
Just don't call me washed up, I do three shows a day.
Charlie Callas doesn't sleep in the ground.
Yes I'm still alive an I'm making me sound.
vup hi vup hala voop voop.
So sit back, relax, and watch our review!
In Soviet Union, review watches you!
And second is a quote by Homer on that very same episode...
"Branson is just like Las Vegas would be if it was run by Flanders."
Oh. So. True.
We didn't only go to Branson. We also visited Wichita, Tulsa, and the long stretches of highway between them. It was a nice time spent with family we almost never get to see. The roads in Tulsa are epically horrible. For more on that click here.
Also in Tulsa we spent some time (almost an hour) at a great bookstore called Gardner's. I am usually not a huge fan of used book stores but this place is awesome. It is a huge store with the largest selection of new and used books I have ever seen in one place. And they don't just do books. They also sell comic books, graphic novels, and VHS and DVD movies. There is a coffee shop in one end of the store and a Mexican restaurant in the other. They are an independently owned bookstore which makes them cool as cucumbers in my book. If you are ever in Tulsa Oklahoma, looking for a relief from the brain rattling roads, Gardner's needs to be a stop. I truly wish they were closer to Delaware.
All in all it was a great vacation.
And now here I sit, at the beach, with the start of another school year just three days away. You will be happy to know that the pain from the hernia surgery is pretty much gone, the giggle berries are back to their proper size and proportions, the nightmares of an all night Yakov Smirnov, Andy Williams tag team show are fading, and I did not pull a Favre and get addicted to my pain meds. Life is pretty much back to normal.
Which begs the question...
It's late...why am I still awake?
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Friday, August 15, 2008
70 word Super Flash Fiction contest
Been spending some time hanging out at a new message board run by author JA Konrath. Seek it here.
He is having a super flash fiction contest. Here is my first entry. Story has to be seventy words OR LESS. This was my first experience with flash fiction. I quite enjoyed it and intend to write some more. I would be most interested in any feedback.
Pop over yourself, take a stab.
Debt Collection by Spiny Norman
Solid footfalls stopping just outside the hotel room door. My whiskey soaked breath making me sick. ESPN on the cheap TV, replaying the final highlights of the game again and again.
Showing the buzzer beater. The impossible shot.
The money.
Gone.
A single knock at the door. No need to ask who it is. No strength in my legs to open it.
No matter.
It will all be over soon.
Thoughts?
He is having a super flash fiction contest. Here is my first entry. Story has to be seventy words OR LESS. This was my first experience with flash fiction. I quite enjoyed it and intend to write some more. I would be most interested in any feedback.
Pop over yourself, take a stab.
Debt Collection by Spiny Norman
Solid footfalls stopping just outside the hotel room door. My whiskey soaked breath making me sick. ESPN on the cheap TV, replaying the final highlights of the game again and again.
Showing the buzzer beater. The impossible shot.
The money.
Gone.
A single knock at the door. No need to ask who it is. No strength in my legs to open it.
No matter.
It will all be over soon.
Thoughts?
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Ode To Joy ala Beaker
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
An open letter to the Oklahoma Department of Transportation (ODOT)
Dear Sir or Madam (Or Y'all...whatever you prefer),
I am a 34 year old man who is in your state currently visiting in-laws. Yes I know that sounds painful and I thank you in advance for your commiserative wince, but there is something giving me much greater discomfort than that. It is something I have had to deal with on a daily basis. And it inspires a question, which is the purpose for this letter. Can I ask you just what the hell is up with the roads in Tulsa?
No really.
Riding in a van on these roads is like trying to drive over a recently demolished building. It is the vehicular equivalent of the bumper card ride at an amusement park. Do car dealerships in Tulsa sell cars with cup holders? It is a wasted feature if they do. Even the staunchest of cup holders cannot prevent the major spillage that occurs from a drive through town.
In all fairness and in the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that I had hernia surgery a little more than two weeks ago, so every bump and jolt carries more of a punch than it would otherwise. But even taking that into account, there can be no possible defense for the poor condition of the roads here. I've seen three dimensional maps of the Adirondack Mountains that looked flatter than the surfaces of some of the Tulsa streets I have ridden on.
Example. Driving down one stretch of Highway 169 I decided to count pot holes. I believe I gave up after ten. The surface of the "streets" around here are so pock-marked and uneven they rival the surface of the moon. I witnessed great cracked lines in the asphalt concrete that were filled in with tar that looked like it had been applied by a preschool age child with a penchant for coloring outside the lines. It would not surprise me in the least bit if I were to learn that Tulsa sells more shock absorbers per capita than any other American city. What do you people spend your money on around here? It sure as hell can't be on road upkeep.
Is there some reason the roads are so bad? Do the people who live in Tulsa enjoy this type of headache inducing driving? Is there some public official taking all the money that is supposed to be funneled for road maintenance and blowing it all at the casinos I see signs for every place I seem to turn? Is it an Oklahoma thing? I was in Kansas a few days ago and those roads were in far better shape. What's the story ODOT?
The roads in my home state of Delaware are by no means perfect but at least I don't have to worry about losing teeth when I drive over them. It is my humble suggestion that someone get up off their over sized haunches and fix this problem. Driving to Claude's for a burger should not feel like a contact sport.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I have to go take two Percosets because my daughter wants me to drive her to Sonic.
Respectfully (kind of),
Brian H.
Editor's note: The author of this letter does not want to give the impression that visiting his in laws is a hell so deep there is no escape from it. Nothing could be further from the truth. The author wants to state unequivocally that his in laws are fine upstanding Americans and that he enjoys their company very much. The line in the letter above about visiting them being painful was put in simply for comedic effect. May he be eternally cursed to drive the roads of Tulsa if he is lying.
I am a 34 year old man who is in your state currently visiting in-laws. Yes I know that sounds painful and I thank you in advance for your commiserative wince, but there is something giving me much greater discomfort than that. It is something I have had to deal with on a daily basis. And it inspires a question, which is the purpose for this letter. Can I ask you just what the hell is up with the roads in Tulsa?
No really.
Riding in a van on these roads is like trying to drive over a recently demolished building. It is the vehicular equivalent of the bumper card ride at an amusement park. Do car dealerships in Tulsa sell cars with cup holders? It is a wasted feature if they do. Even the staunchest of cup holders cannot prevent the major spillage that occurs from a drive through town.
In all fairness and in the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that I had hernia surgery a little more than two weeks ago, so every bump and jolt carries more of a punch than it would otherwise. But even taking that into account, there can be no possible defense for the poor condition of the roads here. I've seen three dimensional maps of the Adirondack Mountains that looked flatter than the surfaces of some of the Tulsa streets I have ridden on.
Example. Driving down one stretch of Highway 169 I decided to count pot holes. I believe I gave up after ten. The surface of the "streets" around here are so pock-marked and uneven they rival the surface of the moon. I witnessed great cracked lines in the asphalt concrete that were filled in with tar that looked like it had been applied by a preschool age child with a penchant for coloring outside the lines. It would not surprise me in the least bit if I were to learn that Tulsa sells more shock absorbers per capita than any other American city. What do you people spend your money on around here? It sure as hell can't be on road upkeep.
Is there some reason the roads are so bad? Do the people who live in Tulsa enjoy this type of headache inducing driving? Is there some public official taking all the money that is supposed to be funneled for road maintenance and blowing it all at the casinos I see signs for every place I seem to turn? Is it an Oklahoma thing? I was in Kansas a few days ago and those roads were in far better shape. What's the story ODOT?
The roads in my home state of Delaware are by no means perfect but at least I don't have to worry about losing teeth when I drive over them. It is my humble suggestion that someone get up off their over sized haunches and fix this problem. Driving to Claude's for a burger should not feel like a contact sport.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I have to go take two Percosets because my daughter wants me to drive her to Sonic.
Respectfully (kind of),
Brian H.
Editor's note: The author of this letter does not want to give the impression that visiting his in laws is a hell so deep there is no escape from it. Nothing could be further from the truth. The author wants to state unequivocally that his in laws are fine upstanding Americans and that he enjoys their company very much. The line in the letter above about visiting them being painful was put in simply for comedic effect. May he be eternally cursed to drive the roads of Tulsa if he is lying.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Monday, August 4, 2008
My 100 things...
A lot of blogs have one. Since I am still in somewhat of a drug induced stupor (all hail the maker of Percocet), I figured now is the time. Here goes...
1. I am 34. There is life after thirty it seems, though for me it appears to be full of hernia operations and pain meds. And a slowly receding hairline...
2. I am a husband. Of a beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman. She may be older than me but she keeps up...(I am getting couched for that one)
3. I am a father. She is smarter than me, funnier then me, and cuter than me. She inspires me each day to try to be the man I ought to be and is always there with a hug and a kiss when I need them most.
4. I love to read. Take a gifted writer, give them a good story to tell and you will have me captivated for days on end.
5. I am a teacher. And I do it willingly...
6. I have a Beagle. We rescued her from 'Scary Dog Man' five years ago. She is emotionally unstable and likes to chew Motrin.
7. Monty Python is god. Don't think I need to add any more actually.
8. I like movies. Though for me the book is always preferable, the only thing that rivals my book collection is my DVD collection.
9. I live in Delaware. **Insert joke about the size of Delaware here**
10. I am a Phillies fan. Yes...the only professional sports organization with more than 10,000 losses. Those Phillies...and don't say anything about them cause then we will have to fight.
11. I am an Eagles fan. I know...glutton for punishment. E-A-G-L-E-S...EAGLES!
12. Like any good Philly fan I HATE the Mets, Yankees, Cowboys, Giants, Redskins, Penguins, Red Wings, and the Celtics. These terms are non-negotiable.
13. My wife rides a mountain bike. I watch...
14. I love to cook on the grill. Beer can chicken...mmmmmm.
15. I was a drama geek in high school. I played Bilbo Baggins as a sixth grader in the high school production of The Hobbit. In some ways, it has been all downhill from there...
16. My brother is not gay. But he has a huge Eeyore tattoo on his back that makes him LOOK gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that...
17. I am primarily Italian, Irish and Welsh. This means I am a bad tempered drunk who never rats on his friends and has a lovely singing voice.
18. I like to take pictures. Now if I could only get the damn neighbors to drop the restraining order...
19. Ka is like a wheel. I applaud you if you know why this is here at number nineteen.
20. I love to play disc golf. It's golf...with discs...it's fun...no really...it is...I promise...
21. I like to write. Guess this would be a huge waste of time if I didn't...
22. I like to read aloud to my daughter. Our favorite book to read aloud is called 'Climbing the Daddy Mountain'. It is a great book but my nether regions have taken quite the pounding from my daughter's attempts to live it out.
23. I laugh out loud when I read something funny. As a result I am not allowed to read writers like Christopher Moore or Carl Hiassen in bed...I must read them down on the couch where my bursts of laughter will only keep the Motrin chewing Beagle awake.
24. Jack Bauer kicks ASS! You know he does...
25. I voted for President Bush. And I deeply, deeply apologize...
26. I like Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Sugar coated pieces of heaven...
27. I almost killed myself when I was sixteen. It involved a three-wheeler and the desire to impress girls. Seventy stitches later...
28. I like NASCAR. I married into it...what can I say...(and it has nothing to do with number 25).
29. I only wear cargo shorts. It is not a fashion statement...they have pockets big enough to hold a book and I always have a book with me so...
30. My house is over one hundred years old. I think our attic is haunted by a smallish ghost with a predilection for Victorian era Homilies...
31. I am politically moderate. Extreme Lefties and Extreme Righties are simply characteratures who either can't or won't try to see both sides of an issue.
32. I like the word Asshat. As in 'Michael Savage is an asshat for his sycophantically stupid comments about autism'.
33. I enjoy spending time Geocaching. Check it out...www.geocaching.com
34. I ran the bases at Veteran's Stadium when I was a kid. Got on the field for the Phanatic's birthday. I remember thinking the turf felt just like my grandmother's back porch.
35. I ran into a rosebush when I was a child. I never claimed to be a smart kid...
36. I like listening to podcasts.
37. Kevin Smith rocks. In a row?!?
38. I have a hairy ass. Thank you ancestors...
39. I attended bible college for two years. I got in trouble for going to the movies to see Mrs. Doubtfire. True story.
40. I like to people watch. Not in a creepy, illegal way...seriously...
41. I only wear sandals in the summer. Makes for great tan lines on my feet.
42. Forty-two is my favorite number. Deepthought and I know why...
43. I HATE "reality" TV. Hate it. Wouldn't throw water on it if it was burning to death kind of hate it...
44. Thursday Next is my hero. I want to work at Jurisfiction some day.
45. Browseabout Bookstore is my favorite book store in the world! This place is not only the best in Delaware...it is absolutely the best independent book store I have ever been in. If you are ever in the Rehobeth Beach area you HAVE to go there. You will not be disappointed.
46. The hotwings at the Miltonian Pizzeria & Wing House in Milton, DE are AWESOME! Best wings in Delaware!
47. I can't believe I am only at forty-seven. Why did I start doing this?
48. I love my X-Box 360. When it works...
49. I sang A Capella in high school and college. Lots of practice in bathrooms.
50. I grew up near a drive-in theatre. My friend's dad ran the projector and I went to a lot of movies for free. Those were the days...
51. I hate flying. I am not afraid of the actual flight. It is dealing with all the associated BS with the airlines I can't stand. Would rather chew broken glass actually.
52. I have been to Alaska. In high school.
53. I put my hand through a window when I was eight. I was yelling at our dog to stop barking and I got a bit over excited. Three stitches...
54. I love history. Love to read about it and teach it.
55. I like LOTR more than Star Wars. Better story...all there is to it.
56. I am addicted to Fantasy Football. Yeah, I am that guy...CHAMPIONSHIP!
57. I spend too much time on the internets. Or so says my wife...
58. I like black olives. Right out of the can baby!
59. I worked at a WaWa in high school. Worst job I have ever had.
60. I worked in the library in college. Great time to finish homework.
61. I have a scar in the shape of Delaware on my right thumb. When I was in college I was helping a stranger jump the battery in her car. She started the car before I was ready for her to and the battery blew up in my face. Fortunately for me, the scar on my thumb is all that remains.
62. I got a hernia from cleaning the bathtub. Yes...from cleaning. Not doing something manly like re-grouting the tub or saving orphans from a fire. Cleaning...
63. The Shawshank Redemption is my favorite movie. Of all time. Ever.
64. There is no sixty-four.
65. I spend a lot of time at Theologyweb.com. It is a great community where Christians, Agnostics, Atheists, Muslims, Orthodox Jews, and Morphing Cats gather to discuss all things theological. It is a truly cool spot on the web.
66. I like ham. Especially Capicola...mmm...mmm...good!
67. Dill pickles are better than sweet pickles. Although...the Sweet Pickles did at one time have their own bus...
68. Dungeons and Dragons was my favorite Saturday morning cartoon as a wee lad. How can you not like a cartoon with voice talent like Willie Aames and Don Most?
69. I hit my brother (the one with the gay Eeyore tattoo) in the head with a railroad spike when we were kids. Some friends and I were trying to knock apples out of a tree. They were pretty high up and rocks were not working. We lived near some railroad tracks and there were dozens of rusty, discarded spikes lying around. We decided to use these to knock the apples free (I have mentioned earlier in this list that I was not a very bright child). So we began to toss these heavy iron spikes up into the tree. My brother, not realizing what complete asshats his brother and his brother's friends were, ran under the tree just as I launched a spike at an apple. I do not recall if I succeeded in hitting an apple but I did make contact with the back of my brother's head. To this day I STILL have not seen so much blood in one place outside of a Hellraiser movie.
70. I like to draw. Took art lessons as a kid. Now just do it for fun.
71. Wall-E and Guido are my two favorite Pixar character creations. More on these two guys later.
72. I can't dance. Not even a little bit.
73. I am a horrible ice skater. Have a bit more skills in this area than in the area of dance...but not many.
74. I talk in my sleep. One reason I would never cheat on my wife...
75. I like Broadway musicals. And I am secure enough to admit it.
76. I don't drink coffee. Love the smell...hate the taste.
77. I love Yeungling. My favorite beer. No froo-froo, fruity, snooty European beers for me thank you.
78. I have never had a hangover in my life. This could mean one of two things. One, I am immune to the affliction, which would make me one lucky SOB. Two, I just don't drink enough.
79. I have a talent for flatulence. Again...thank you ancestors.
80. My favorite series of books growing up was Dragonlance. A series I still love to this day...my wife calls them my "nerd books". I don't disagree but always ask her that, knowing this when she accepted my marriage proposal, what does that say about her?
81. I love trivia games. Lot of useless information rattling around this noggin of mine.
82. I almost killed my brother in a car accident when I was eighteen. I took on a Buick in my Pontiac Fiero and lost. Didn't even use a railroad spike this time...
83. I waited in line at midnight for Harry Potter books four through seven. Yeah...I am that guy as well...but at least I didn't dress up...
84. I love Gummy Bears. Who doesn't?
85. I use Firefox. If you don't...why the hell don't you?!?
86. My laptop is a Dell Inspiron 1526. It's blue.
87. Daniel Craig is the best James Bond. Period. It is a title that belonged to Connery until two years ago. If you wish to dispute this, please do so in the comments. Can't wait for Quantum of Solace.
88. I am a Libra. Whatever the hell that means.
89. I liked the fourth Indiana Jones movie. Yes, even with the nuked fridge.
90. I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me. Good thought there. Then again he was the walrus. I could be the Walrus but I would still have to bum rides off of people. (You MUST know what movie this comes from...)
91. My favorite movie theater food is pretzel bites and spicy cheese. Especially when they are freshly made.
92. I play volleyball in an adult rec league. Balls of Fire can't be beat. Well...yes we can...quite often actually...
93. I got a D in Home Ec when I was in seventh grade. We had to make a pair of pants and I sewed the legs shut. Martha Stewart I am not, nor ever have been. The D was a gift from a very merciful teacher...
94. I have been ticketed for speeding four times in my life. Now how's THAT for some serious street cred...
95. I make faces at myself in the mirror when no one is watching.
96. Iced Tea is my favorite beverage. Especially Turkey Hill Sweet Tea. The rivers in heaven will flow with this stuff.
97. The first stories I ever wrote were of the "Choose Your Own Adventure" variety. Myself and several friends would make the books out of lined paper stapled together. This was circa third, fourth grade. Chicks dug us...HARD.
98. I don't have a very big sweet tooth. Unless we are talking about the aforementioned gummy bears.
99. It is 1:44 AM. Holy crap...am I almost finished?
100. I hope I haven't bored you and that you have read all 100 things. Otherwise this was one huge waste of time and brain cells.
1. I am 34. There is life after thirty it seems, though for me it appears to be full of hernia operations and pain meds. And a slowly receding hairline...
2. I am a husband. Of a beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman. She may be older than me but she keeps up...(I am getting couched for that one)
3. I am a father. She is smarter than me, funnier then me, and cuter than me. She inspires me each day to try to be the man I ought to be and is always there with a hug and a kiss when I need them most.
4. I love to read. Take a gifted writer, give them a good story to tell and you will have me captivated for days on end.
5. I am a teacher. And I do it willingly...
6. I have a Beagle. We rescued her from 'Scary Dog Man' five years ago. She is emotionally unstable and likes to chew Motrin.
7. Monty Python is god. Don't think I need to add any more actually.
8. I like movies. Though for me the book is always preferable, the only thing that rivals my book collection is my DVD collection.
9. I live in Delaware. **Insert joke about the size of Delaware here**
10. I am a Phillies fan. Yes...the only professional sports organization with more than 10,000 losses. Those Phillies...and don't say anything about them cause then we will have to fight.
11. I am an Eagles fan. I know...glutton for punishment. E-A-G-L-E-S...EAGLES!
12. Like any good Philly fan I HATE the Mets, Yankees, Cowboys, Giants, Redskins, Penguins, Red Wings, and the Celtics. These terms are non-negotiable.
13. My wife rides a mountain bike. I watch...
14. I love to cook on the grill. Beer can chicken...mmmmmm.
15. I was a drama geek in high school. I played Bilbo Baggins as a sixth grader in the high school production of The Hobbit. In some ways, it has been all downhill from there...
16. My brother is not gay. But he has a huge Eeyore tattoo on his back that makes him LOOK gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that...
17. I am primarily Italian, Irish and Welsh. This means I am a bad tempered drunk who never rats on his friends and has a lovely singing voice.
18. I like to take pictures. Now if I could only get the damn neighbors to drop the restraining order...
19. Ka is like a wheel. I applaud you if you know why this is here at number nineteen.
20. I love to play disc golf. It's golf...with discs...it's fun...no really...it is...I promise...
21. I like to write. Guess this would be a huge waste of time if I didn't...
22. I like to read aloud to my daughter. Our favorite book to read aloud is called 'Climbing the Daddy Mountain'. It is a great book but my nether regions have taken quite the pounding from my daughter's attempts to live it out.
23. I laugh out loud when I read something funny. As a result I am not allowed to read writers like Christopher Moore or Carl Hiassen in bed...I must read them down on the couch where my bursts of laughter will only keep the Motrin chewing Beagle awake.
24. Jack Bauer kicks ASS! You know he does...
25. I voted for President Bush. And I deeply, deeply apologize...
26. I like Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Sugar coated pieces of heaven...
27. I almost killed myself when I was sixteen. It involved a three-wheeler and the desire to impress girls. Seventy stitches later...
28. I like NASCAR. I married into it...what can I say...(and it has nothing to do with number 25).
29. I only wear cargo shorts. It is not a fashion statement...they have pockets big enough to hold a book and I always have a book with me so...
30. My house is over one hundred years old. I think our attic is haunted by a smallish ghost with a predilection for Victorian era Homilies...
31. I am politically moderate. Extreme Lefties and Extreme Righties are simply characteratures who either can't or won't try to see both sides of an issue.
32. I like the word Asshat. As in 'Michael Savage is an asshat for his sycophantically stupid comments about autism'.
33. I enjoy spending time Geocaching. Check it out...www.geocaching.com
34. I ran the bases at Veteran's Stadium when I was a kid. Got on the field for the Phanatic's birthday. I remember thinking the turf felt just like my grandmother's back porch.
35. I ran into a rosebush when I was a child. I never claimed to be a smart kid...
36. I like listening to podcasts.
37. Kevin Smith rocks. In a row?!?
38. I have a hairy ass. Thank you ancestors...
39. I attended bible college for two years. I got in trouble for going to the movies to see Mrs. Doubtfire. True story.
40. I like to people watch. Not in a creepy, illegal way...seriously...
41. I only wear sandals in the summer. Makes for great tan lines on my feet.
42. Forty-two is my favorite number. Deepthought and I know why...
43. I HATE "reality" TV. Hate it. Wouldn't throw water on it if it was burning to death kind of hate it...
44. Thursday Next is my hero. I want to work at Jurisfiction some day.
45. Browseabout Bookstore is my favorite book store in the world! This place is not only the best in Delaware...it is absolutely the best independent book store I have ever been in. If you are ever in the Rehobeth Beach area you HAVE to go there. You will not be disappointed.
46. The hotwings at the Miltonian Pizzeria & Wing House in Milton, DE are AWESOME! Best wings in Delaware!
47. I can't believe I am only at forty-seven. Why did I start doing this?
48. I love my X-Box 360. When it works...
49. I sang A Capella in high school and college. Lots of practice in bathrooms.
50. I grew up near a drive-in theatre. My friend's dad ran the projector and I went to a lot of movies for free. Those were the days...
51. I hate flying. I am not afraid of the actual flight. It is dealing with all the associated BS with the airlines I can't stand. Would rather chew broken glass actually.
52. I have been to Alaska. In high school.
53. I put my hand through a window when I was eight. I was yelling at our dog to stop barking and I got a bit over excited. Three stitches...
54. I love history. Love to read about it and teach it.
55. I like LOTR more than Star Wars. Better story...all there is to it.
56. I am addicted to Fantasy Football. Yeah, I am that guy...CHAMPIONSHIP!
57. I spend too much time on the internets. Or so says my wife...
58. I like black olives. Right out of the can baby!
59. I worked at a WaWa in high school. Worst job I have ever had.
60. I worked in the library in college. Great time to finish homework.
61. I have a scar in the shape of Delaware on my right thumb. When I was in college I was helping a stranger jump the battery in her car. She started the car before I was ready for her to and the battery blew up in my face. Fortunately for me, the scar on my thumb is all that remains.
62. I got a hernia from cleaning the bathtub. Yes...from cleaning. Not doing something manly like re-grouting the tub or saving orphans from a fire. Cleaning...
63. The Shawshank Redemption is my favorite movie. Of all time. Ever.
64. There is no sixty-four.
65. I spend a lot of time at Theologyweb.com. It is a great community where Christians, Agnostics, Atheists, Muslims, Orthodox Jews, and Morphing Cats gather to discuss all things theological. It is a truly cool spot on the web.
66. I like ham. Especially Capicola...mmm...mmm...good!
67. Dill pickles are better than sweet pickles. Although...the Sweet Pickles did at one time have their own bus...
68. Dungeons and Dragons was my favorite Saturday morning cartoon as a wee lad. How can you not like a cartoon with voice talent like Willie Aames and Don Most?
69. I hit my brother (the one with the gay Eeyore tattoo) in the head with a railroad spike when we were kids. Some friends and I were trying to knock apples out of a tree. They were pretty high up and rocks were not working. We lived near some railroad tracks and there were dozens of rusty, discarded spikes lying around. We decided to use these to knock the apples free (I have mentioned earlier in this list that I was not a very bright child). So we began to toss these heavy iron spikes up into the tree. My brother, not realizing what complete asshats his brother and his brother's friends were, ran under the tree just as I launched a spike at an apple. I do not recall if I succeeded in hitting an apple but I did make contact with the back of my brother's head. To this day I STILL have not seen so much blood in one place outside of a Hellraiser movie.
70. I like to draw. Took art lessons as a kid. Now just do it for fun.
71. Wall-E and Guido are my two favorite Pixar character creations. More on these two guys later.
72. I can't dance. Not even a little bit.
73. I am a horrible ice skater. Have a bit more skills in this area than in the area of dance...but not many.
74. I talk in my sleep. One reason I would never cheat on my wife...
75. I like Broadway musicals. And I am secure enough to admit it.
76. I don't drink coffee. Love the smell...hate the taste.
77. I love Yeungling. My favorite beer. No froo-froo, fruity, snooty European beers for me thank you.
78. I have never had a hangover in my life. This could mean one of two things. One, I am immune to the affliction, which would make me one lucky SOB. Two, I just don't drink enough.
79. I have a talent for flatulence. Again...thank you ancestors.
80. My favorite series of books growing up was Dragonlance. A series I still love to this day...my wife calls them my "nerd books". I don't disagree but always ask her that, knowing this when she accepted my marriage proposal, what does that say about her?
81. I love trivia games. Lot of useless information rattling around this noggin of mine.
82. I almost killed my brother in a car accident when I was eighteen. I took on a Buick in my Pontiac Fiero and lost. Didn't even use a railroad spike this time...
83. I waited in line at midnight for Harry Potter books four through seven. Yeah...I am that guy as well...but at least I didn't dress up...
84. I love Gummy Bears. Who doesn't?
85. I use Firefox. If you don't...why the hell don't you?!?
86. My laptop is a Dell Inspiron 1526. It's blue.
87. Daniel Craig is the best James Bond. Period. It is a title that belonged to Connery until two years ago. If you wish to dispute this, please do so in the comments. Can't wait for Quantum of Solace.
88. I am a Libra. Whatever the hell that means.
89. I liked the fourth Indiana Jones movie. Yes, even with the nuked fridge.
90. I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me. Good thought there. Then again he was the walrus. I could be the Walrus but I would still have to bum rides off of people. (You MUST know what movie this comes from...)
91. My favorite movie theater food is pretzel bites and spicy cheese. Especially when they are freshly made.
92. I play volleyball in an adult rec league. Balls of Fire can't be beat. Well...yes we can...quite often actually...
93. I got a D in Home Ec when I was in seventh grade. We had to make a pair of pants and I sewed the legs shut. Martha Stewart I am not, nor ever have been. The D was a gift from a very merciful teacher...
94. I have been ticketed for speeding four times in my life. Now how's THAT for some serious street cred...
95. I make faces at myself in the mirror when no one is watching.
96. Iced Tea is my favorite beverage. Especially Turkey Hill Sweet Tea. The rivers in heaven will flow with this stuff.
97. The first stories I ever wrote were of the "Choose Your Own Adventure" variety. Myself and several friends would make the books out of lined paper stapled together. This was circa third, fourth grade. Chicks dug us...HARD.
98. I don't have a very big sweet tooth. Unless we are talking about the aforementioned gummy bears.
99. It is 1:44 AM. Holy crap...am I almost finished?
100. I hope I haven't bored you and that you have read all 100 things. Otherwise this was one huge waste of time and brain cells.
Travel Phenomena
Very tired. A lot has been going on which I will share at some point, but I haven't written in a few days and I miss it. So...just a slice before bed time.
We are out in Wichita (Thanks Hattie for the spelling correction) to visit the fam on my wife's side. Kansas is like Delaware except that is it flatter, there is no ocean, and there are a few more Walmarts.
We flew in yesterday. I am not much of a traveler and what I took as a strange phenomena, some may just take as regular business. We flew out of Philly (at seven in the friggin morning) and went to Memphis. There we got off, sprinted across the airport (why the hell do they always drop me at the farthest gate from my connecting flight? Is it planned out beforehand?), and struggled to get to our connecting flight to Tulsa. The two flights were pretty standard and not terribly thrilling. There was something at the end of each flight that made me smile. After the plane landed, on each flight, the pilot would make his standard "Welcome to __________(insert city name), the time is blah, blah, blah...the temperature is blah, blah, blah, we are glad you chose us, we are glad we didn't plummet to our deaths...yadda, yadda, yadda...". As he was running through the list in a bored, I could really care less voice, the airplane erupted in a chorus of music. At first I really couldn't figure out what it was. A hundred chimes, synthesized piano notes, and bleeps. On the second flight I figured it out. It was the sound of roughly a hundred people turning on their cell phones at approximately the same time. It was an amusing cacophany of tiny, electronic noise. Has anyone else noticed this while flying or was it just me?
In other news...the Phillies really tried to give a win to the Cardinals tonight. As I drift off to sleep the fightins are sitting at 61-50. That is two and a half in front of Florida and three in front of the Mutts (What was that...4 losses in a row New York?). There be a lot of baseball left...bring it on!
And on the Brett Favre front...I still don't give a spit. ESPN does...but then again, they seem to be of the opinion that there is no other NFL news without Favre.
It's late.
I am tired.
Shane Victorino ROCKS!
And if you came here looking for the naked pictures of Brett Favre...GET A LIFE SICKO!!!
We are out in Wichita (Thanks Hattie for the spelling correction) to visit the fam on my wife's side. Kansas is like Delaware except that is it flatter, there is no ocean, and there are a few more Walmarts.
We flew in yesterday. I am not much of a traveler and what I took as a strange phenomena, some may just take as regular business. We flew out of Philly (at seven in the friggin morning) and went to Memphis. There we got off, sprinted across the airport (why the hell do they always drop me at the farthest gate from my connecting flight? Is it planned out beforehand?), and struggled to get to our connecting flight to Tulsa. The two flights were pretty standard and not terribly thrilling. There was something at the end of each flight that made me smile. After the plane landed, on each flight, the pilot would make his standard "Welcome to __________(insert city name), the time is blah, blah, blah...the temperature is blah, blah, blah, we are glad you chose us, we are glad we didn't plummet to our deaths...yadda, yadda, yadda...". As he was running through the list in a bored, I could really care less voice, the airplane erupted in a chorus of music. At first I really couldn't figure out what it was. A hundred chimes, synthesized piano notes, and bleeps. On the second flight I figured it out. It was the sound of roughly a hundred people turning on their cell phones at approximately the same time. It was an amusing cacophany of tiny, electronic noise. Has anyone else noticed this while flying or was it just me?
In other news...the Phillies really tried to give a win to the Cardinals tonight. As I drift off to sleep the fightins are sitting at 61-50. That is two and a half in front of Florida and three in front of the Mutts (What was that...4 losses in a row New York?). There be a lot of baseball left...bring it on!
And on the Brett Favre front...I still don't give a spit. ESPN does...but then again, they seem to be of the opinion that there is no other NFL news without Favre.
It's late.
I am tired.
Shane Victorino ROCKS!
And if you came here looking for the naked pictures of Brett Favre...GET A LIFE SICKO!!!
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Phills take a close one from the tough Nats...or something like that...
Walk up to Brett Myers right now and ask him how happy he was to face the Nationals tonight. After he finished throwing sunflower seeds at you like a small child he would smile and probably reply "How the f*** do you think I feel?"
Yeppers Brett...nothing like facing a team the caliber of the Nats to make you feel good about yourself again. They only managed to score one run, this thanks to a fielding error by Chase Utley that let the lone run even get on base.
Speaking of Mr. Utley, he remembered how to hit a home-run tonight. It is a good thing he did because the rest of the squad left their bats in Philly. I hope someone can get them down to DC for tomorrow's game.
The Phills should have won this game and they did. Those bats really better show up by tomorrow because they are facing Tim Redding who likes to batter the Phills the way Myers likes to batter his...well... now... that's too easy.
The Mets also won tonight, beating the Marlins 4 to 1 in Miami. You know Miami right? That's the city the doesn't even realize it HAS a baseball team. Old Man Delgado hit a two run shot and Oliver Perez remembered how to win a game after a month of forgetfulness.
So that means we are still half a game back. Let's see what tomorrow brings.
Oh yeah, in other news Brett Favre faxed in his request to be reinstated today, prompting me to say...WHO THE HELL CARES??!!??
And in Other, Other news the Angels just got better by getting Mark Teixeira from Atlanta for a first baseman and a AA righty. Just what we need...thanks Alanta for making the team with the best record even better.
Yeppers Brett...nothing like facing a team the caliber of the Nats to make you feel good about yourself again. They only managed to score one run, this thanks to a fielding error by Chase Utley that let the lone run even get on base.
Speaking of Mr. Utley, he remembered how to hit a home-run tonight. It is a good thing he did because the rest of the squad left their bats in Philly. I hope someone can get them down to DC for tomorrow's game.
The Phills should have won this game and they did. Those bats really better show up by tomorrow because they are facing Tim Redding who likes to batter the Phills the way Myers likes to batter his...well... now... that's too easy.
The Mets also won tonight, beating the Marlins 4 to 1 in Miami. You know Miami right? That's the city the doesn't even realize it HAS a baseball team. Old Man Delgado hit a two run shot and Oliver Perez remembered how to win a game after a month of forgetfulness.
So that means we are still half a game back. Let's see what tomorrow brings.
Oh yeah, in other news Brett Favre faxed in his request to be reinstated today, prompting me to say...WHO THE HELL CARES??!!??
And in Other, Other news the Angels just got better by getting Mark Teixeira from Atlanta for a first baseman and a AA righty. Just what we need...thanks Alanta for making the team with the best record even better.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Ticks Suck...(no really)...
I have gotten messages from several people asking about Jeff's status and telling me they were praying for him. This is uber-cool on two levels.
Level ONE:
It is always refreshing to know one has friends who care. Makes the world seem just a bit smaller and more thoughtful.
Level TWO:
It means that there actually more than three people (Hi Mom) who are taking the time to read the random mental debris that falls out of my head. That is pretty cool actually.
My brother is improving. He contracted Lyme Meningitis, most likely from some random tick bite a month or two earlier. It is bad enough these little suckers actually feed on our blood like we were giant walking milkshakes, but they also have to go and infect us to boot. No awkwardly muttered thank you. No shared cigarette afterwards. Not even a half hearted "I'll call you."
Simply suck the plasma and jet.
(It makes me feel so used)
Anyway...he is on liquid antibiotics and he should be good to go. The poor guy has also developed Bells Palsy, a fun condition that makes part of your face feel as if a drunk dentist took his Novocaine and, while aiming for your gums, slipped and injected your face instead.
I myself had Bells a few years ago. Every smile was a half smile. I could not wink or even whistle. I had to hold my right eye closed when I showered because it would not close when ordered to do so by my brain. I had it when we went to see the first image of our daughter on the fuzzy sonogram screen. The tech doing the procedure was going to report me for harassment, I have no doubt. I must have stopped her a thousand times to confidently state that I was in fact the happiest father in the history of fatherhood but I was unable to show it because I could not attempt to smile with out drooling out the dead side of my face. After the third or fourth time her reassuring smile turned from gentle sympathy to masked hostility, perhaps a bit of the old 'he doth protest too much'. I wanted to wink at her reassuringly but this would have necessitated taking my finger and actually pulling my eyelid down. As I felt she already suspected me of an unknown and best undefined weirdness, I did not want to pile it on so I just shut my mouth for the rest of the time.
So thanks for asking about Jeff. All should be well just in time to go back to school.
And there will be much rejoicing.
Lousy summer for an eleven year old huh?
Level ONE:
It is always refreshing to know one has friends who care. Makes the world seem just a bit smaller and more thoughtful.
Level TWO:
It means that there actually more than three people (Hi Mom) who are taking the time to read the random mental debris that falls out of my head. That is pretty cool actually.
My brother is improving. He contracted Lyme Meningitis, most likely from some random tick bite a month or two earlier. It is bad enough these little suckers actually feed on our blood like we were giant walking milkshakes, but they also have to go and infect us to boot. No awkwardly muttered thank you. No shared cigarette afterwards. Not even a half hearted "I'll call you."
Simply suck the plasma and jet.
(It makes me feel so used)
Anyway...he is on liquid antibiotics and he should be good to go. The poor guy has also developed Bells Palsy, a fun condition that makes part of your face feel as if a drunk dentist took his Novocaine and, while aiming for your gums, slipped and injected your face instead.
I myself had Bells a few years ago. Every smile was a half smile. I could not wink or even whistle. I had to hold my right eye closed when I showered because it would not close when ordered to do so by my brain. I had it when we went to see the first image of our daughter on the fuzzy sonogram screen. The tech doing the procedure was going to report me for harassment, I have no doubt. I must have stopped her a thousand times to confidently state that I was in fact the happiest father in the history of fatherhood but I was unable to show it because I could not attempt to smile with out drooling out the dead side of my face. After the third or fourth time her reassuring smile turned from gentle sympathy to masked hostility, perhaps a bit of the old 'he doth protest too much'. I wanted to wink at her reassuringly but this would have necessitated taking my finger and actually pulling my eyelid down. As I felt she already suspected me of an unknown and best undefined weirdness, I did not want to pile it on so I just shut my mouth for the rest of the time.
So thanks for asking about Jeff. All should be well just in time to go back to school.
And there will be much rejoicing.
Lousy summer for an eleven year old huh?
Monday, July 14, 2008
My Philosophy of Life...
A tiny fish swam into the Orthodox Church searching for the meaning of life. The priest was unavailable, due to the small gang of wombats that were extolling the virtues of Joseph Smith and cold, vegetarian pizza. The fish, wishing it had shoulders to shrug at the universe, simply settled for a non-committal wave of its fins. As the fish swam out of the church a runaway rickshaw being pulled by George Bush and Hillary Clinton rode over it, squashing its tiny brain to oatmeal. Right as its eyes darkened forever beneath the unforgiving rubber of the wheel it had time to think ‘Oh yeah. The answer is pretty much what I figured.’
Then nothing.
Not even re-runs of Seinfeld.
Then nothing.
Not even re-runs of Seinfeld.
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Friday, July 4, 2008
For those who bring hope to sick children
I spent the entire afternoon at the Alfred I Dupont Hospital for Children today.
For the past two weeks my 12 year old brother Jeff has been complaining of back pain. This of course is not an ailment typical of someone his age. He has been examined by several doctors. Tests have been administered. X-Rays have been taken. As of this moment, no one is sure exactly what is making his back hurt.
Earlier today he was scheduled for a bone scan. He had some radioactive dye put into his body around seven this morning. They had to give the dye time to circulate so Jeff, my dad, and my step mom went shopping. After some time spent browsing, my dad decided they should grab a bite to eat before heading back to the office to have the bone scan done. Jeff ordered a burger, fries, and a sprite. He sat back in his seat as the car began to pull out, taking a few swigs of his soft drink. According to my dad, thirty seconds later Jeff was puking his guts out...literally as the vomit was mostly blood.
Yes, it was a terrifying as it sounds.
My dad and step mom immediately drove him to the ER at AI. No more vomiting ensued and they were able to complete the bone scan. The bone scan found...nothing. So he will be spending the night there and having an MRI completed tomorrow. The doctors feel the vomiting was most likely caused by the Motrin he had been taking for several days to ease the pain. I finished teaching at one thirty and immediately shot over to see how he was doing.
This is the reason I found myself sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair around three-ish, with a tremendous need to pee. I excused myself from the room and walked down the corridor in search of a men's room. It was a hospital corridor much like the thousands one can see on any TV hospital drama or in a thousand movies. The only real difference was the hand drawn pictures of famous cartoon characters on the window's of each room. I walked past Dora, Sponge Bob, and a dog that I believe was supposed to be Scooby Doo, but the likeness was a tad shaky.
I finally found a bathroom and took care of business, following the command of the sign on the bathroom mirror to wash my hands to help keep the hospital a "healthy" place. I found the wording to be a bit amusing, considering the ER was packed with sick children, but I appreciated the sentiment.
As I walked back to the room a mother and daughter were approaching slowly in my direction. The girl appeared to be about five or six years old. She had the most beautiful head of hair, a strawberry blond waterfall that cascaded straight down to her delicate shoulders. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue, two chips of solid arctic ice. She had the face of an angel. Her body was a different story altogether. Her hair lay across a right shoulder that was at normal height and a left shoulder bunched up by several inches. Her arms and legs were twisted like the branches of an ancient oak tree. This made it tremendously difficult for her to walk. It was more of a shuffle than a walk really. Clutched in a hand that was more claw than anything else was a Strawberry Shortcake doll. As I closed the distance between us the mother and I made eye contact. She nodded at me and I returned a half smile.
Just as I passed them the little girl dropped her doll. It hit the cold tile floor with an audible thump. The girl's fingers reached out for it, but her mother did not allow her to bend over, as that understandably was impossible for the young girl. I squatted down and picked up the doll thinking nothing of the physical effort I exerted to do so. The little girls eyes met mine and I was riveted by the intelligence, the awareness in their gaze. It was an adult gaze. Her mother stood just behind her, steadying her daughter's uneven posture.
"Looks like you dropped someone," I told her.
She nodded shyly and help out her left hand for the doll. Smiling, I held it out and watched as the girl visibly struggled to open her fingers to reclaim it. My heart broke at the obvious discomfort the action caused her, but at the same time it also swelled with awe to witness the grim determination on her young face. It took her about thirty seconds or so to pick the doll out of my hand. When she reclaimed it a look of victory lit her features with a glow so deep it made me almost feel the need to look away. She looked at me and smiled. Her gnarled fingers clutched the doll closely to her chest.
"Rebecca honey, what do you say to the nice man?" her mother asked her.
Never breaking eye contact with me she said "Thank you for picking up my Shorty Cake."
"The pleasure was all mine," I replied with a croak. A lump had suddenly developed square in the middle of my throat.
Her mother thanked me as well as I rose to my feet. I assured her it was no problem then continued my walk back to my brother's room. When I reached the curtain I glanced back to see how they had progressed. They had stopped not far from where Rebecca had dropped the doll. Another adult was crouched down to her eye level, this one a pretty young woman in a white coat, her auburn hair held back with a scrunchie. She was listening to something Rebecca was saying to her. She smiled then suddenly all three of them, the young girl and the two women looked at me. The girl smiled at me again and raised her right hand in a wave. The young doctor pointed at me and said something and Rebecca giggled. Choking back a tear I returned the smile and the wave and then went back into my brother's room.
I sat back in my uncomfortable chair and thought about that doctor. I looked through the window (Bugs Bunny danced across the glass surface of ours) and saw other doctors. I saw nurses and aides. I saw cleaning staff as well. All spending their day in the company of children like Rebecca. I wondered how they did it. I still wonder how they do it. To see suffering children on a daily basis. To look into young and innocent eyes that have experienced more pain and suffering in their brief time on earth that I have ever experienced in my much longer time. To dedicate their lives, from doctor to custodian, to helping these children improve their quality of life.
I thank God that there are people like that. I thank each and every one of them for the amazing work they do day in and day out. These are people who TRULY make a difference in the world. It is not a trite saying our a cute bumper sticker for them.
We are blessed to have them, and we should tell them that when we have the chance.
For the past two weeks my 12 year old brother Jeff has been complaining of back pain. This of course is not an ailment typical of someone his age. He has been examined by several doctors. Tests have been administered. X-Rays have been taken. As of this moment, no one is sure exactly what is making his back hurt.
Earlier today he was scheduled for a bone scan. He had some radioactive dye put into his body around seven this morning. They had to give the dye time to circulate so Jeff, my dad, and my step mom went shopping. After some time spent browsing, my dad decided they should grab a bite to eat before heading back to the office to have the bone scan done. Jeff ordered a burger, fries, and a sprite. He sat back in his seat as the car began to pull out, taking a few swigs of his soft drink. According to my dad, thirty seconds later Jeff was puking his guts out...literally as the vomit was mostly blood.
Yes, it was a terrifying as it sounds.
My dad and step mom immediately drove him to the ER at AI. No more vomiting ensued and they were able to complete the bone scan. The bone scan found...nothing. So he will be spending the night there and having an MRI completed tomorrow. The doctors feel the vomiting was most likely caused by the Motrin he had been taking for several days to ease the pain. I finished teaching at one thirty and immediately shot over to see how he was doing.
This is the reason I found myself sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair around three-ish, with a tremendous need to pee. I excused myself from the room and walked down the corridor in search of a men's room. It was a hospital corridor much like the thousands one can see on any TV hospital drama or in a thousand movies. The only real difference was the hand drawn pictures of famous cartoon characters on the window's of each room. I walked past Dora, Sponge Bob, and a dog that I believe was supposed to be Scooby Doo, but the likeness was a tad shaky.
I finally found a bathroom and took care of business, following the command of the sign on the bathroom mirror to wash my hands to help keep the hospital a "healthy" place. I found the wording to be a bit amusing, considering the ER was packed with sick children, but I appreciated the sentiment.
As I walked back to the room a mother and daughter were approaching slowly in my direction. The girl appeared to be about five or six years old. She had the most beautiful head of hair, a strawberry blond waterfall that cascaded straight down to her delicate shoulders. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue, two chips of solid arctic ice. She had the face of an angel. Her body was a different story altogether. Her hair lay across a right shoulder that was at normal height and a left shoulder bunched up by several inches. Her arms and legs were twisted like the branches of an ancient oak tree. This made it tremendously difficult for her to walk. It was more of a shuffle than a walk really. Clutched in a hand that was more claw than anything else was a Strawberry Shortcake doll. As I closed the distance between us the mother and I made eye contact. She nodded at me and I returned a half smile.
Just as I passed them the little girl dropped her doll. It hit the cold tile floor with an audible thump. The girl's fingers reached out for it, but her mother did not allow her to bend over, as that understandably was impossible for the young girl. I squatted down and picked up the doll thinking nothing of the physical effort I exerted to do so. The little girls eyes met mine and I was riveted by the intelligence, the awareness in their gaze. It was an adult gaze. Her mother stood just behind her, steadying her daughter's uneven posture.
"Looks like you dropped someone," I told her.
She nodded shyly and help out her left hand for the doll. Smiling, I held it out and watched as the girl visibly struggled to open her fingers to reclaim it. My heart broke at the obvious discomfort the action caused her, but at the same time it also swelled with awe to witness the grim determination on her young face. It took her about thirty seconds or so to pick the doll out of my hand. When she reclaimed it a look of victory lit her features with a glow so deep it made me almost feel the need to look away. She looked at me and smiled. Her gnarled fingers clutched the doll closely to her chest.
"Rebecca honey, what do you say to the nice man?" her mother asked her.
Never breaking eye contact with me she said "Thank you for picking up my Shorty Cake."
"The pleasure was all mine," I replied with a croak. A lump had suddenly developed square in the middle of my throat.
Her mother thanked me as well as I rose to my feet. I assured her it was no problem then continued my walk back to my brother's room. When I reached the curtain I glanced back to see how they had progressed. They had stopped not far from where Rebecca had dropped the doll. Another adult was crouched down to her eye level, this one a pretty young woman in a white coat, her auburn hair held back with a scrunchie. She was listening to something Rebecca was saying to her. She smiled then suddenly all three of them, the young girl and the two women looked at me. The girl smiled at me again and raised her right hand in a wave. The young doctor pointed at me and said something and Rebecca giggled. Choking back a tear I returned the smile and the wave and then went back into my brother's room.
I sat back in my uncomfortable chair and thought about that doctor. I looked through the window (Bugs Bunny danced across the glass surface of ours) and saw other doctors. I saw nurses and aides. I saw cleaning staff as well. All spending their day in the company of children like Rebecca. I wondered how they did it. I still wonder how they do it. To see suffering children on a daily basis. To look into young and innocent eyes that have experienced more pain and suffering in their brief time on earth that I have ever experienced in my much longer time. To dedicate their lives, from doctor to custodian, to helping these children improve their quality of life.
I thank God that there are people like that. I thank each and every one of them for the amazing work they do day in and day out. These are people who TRULY make a difference in the world. It is not a trite saying our a cute bumper sticker for them.
We are blessed to have them, and we should tell them that when we have the chance.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Backyard life and death
I got home from teaching today and my wife informed me that the yard really needed to be taken care of. Not only has the dog been missing since last week, but the neighbor's two children chased a ball into our yard and have not been seen since. The exaggeration here is mild at best. So, putting on my best 'I am mildly pissed off but I love you and will do anything to please you' face I trudged out to the garage to see if I could coax the Craftsman Turd we have into some sputtering form of life so I could tame the beast that had once been a nice back yard.
The mower needs a new fuel line, but in addition to being a lazy ass, I am also a pretty cheap bastard (unless a new hardcover book or DVD limited edition laser coded collectors set comes out) so I wanted to see if I could patch the leak so I could get as much mileage out of the machine as I could. I got some epoxy, a Q-Tip, and a pair of rubber gloves and went to work. Twenty minutes later I pulled on the cord to start her up and she sputtered to life, once more saved from the brink of annihilation.
I shut the mower down and went back in to inform my wife that from now on I was to be addressed as Macgyver and given the proper respect for being the master of fixing all things mechanical. From the depths of the book she had her nose buried in, I heard something that sounded vaguely like "That's great. Now when are you going to "MACGYVER" the porch steps, the upstairs toilet, the...". I did not catch the rest as I was caught up in the heady exultation of my rugged manliness. The rest probably wasn't very important.
So I headed back outside to actually use my miraculously healed mower to begin cutting the grass when a shuffle of movement stopped me short. It was down on the ground and I just barely caught it out of the corner of my right eye. Looking for ANY excuse to delay the actual physical labor (SO much for Macgyver) I bent down to see what had caught my attention.
A beetle and a spider were caught in a life or death battle royal before my eyes. I am no arachnologist (a person who studies spiders...I know this because I looked it up on Wikkipedia, and we all know how accurate and reliable that fount of information is) so I do not know what type of spider I was looking at. It was fairly small and white, with brown markings on its back. It was latched onto a copper colored beetle that was three times it's size. It was latched onto the beetle's shoulder (yes, I know, beetles don't HAVE shoulders, but I am too lazy to hop back on Wikkipedia and find out what you call the place where a beetle's head meets it's neck) in a kung fu death grip. The beetle was flailing like hell to beat that little spider off, but the spider was having none of it. Like a drunk cowboy on a mechanical bull its tiny body was being thrashed around, but it was not losing it's grip.
I watched this go on for a few minutes, a commentator with a really bad British accent calling the fight in my head.
What does that say about me? Not only can I not perform a decent British accent out loud, I can't even imagine a good one.
As I watched I felt bad for the beetle. I have seen the Lion King so I know about the whole circle of life thing, blah, blah, blah...but I still felt bad for the little guy. He had probably been heading home after a long day of...well...doing whatever it is that beetles do for a living. The wife had probably nagged him to remember to stop and pick up a little bit of dung for her and the kids, and all he had in his mind was getting it done quickly so he could get home and fall asleep watching Lost. (What? Everyone is watching Lost these days...why not the beetle?) Then suddenly, from out of no where, this damn little spider with a Napolean complex bites into the poor guy, releasing an arachnologist knows what kind of poison into his system, and then tries to take him down. I felt for the little guy. So I reached down and grabbed a nearby twig. I took the twig and poked at the spider, trying to get it to let go of the beetle. And do you know what? That little bugger did not move an inch. In fact its two thin front legs came up in what looked like a defensive boxer's position. That littlesucker was taking me on. Legs raised like a boxer's arms, daring me to mess with it. As if saying 'Yeah, I got this beetle to take care of right now, but when I get done with him, I'll take a piece of your shoulder too'. Not being one to take attitude from anyone, especially a creature smaller than a decent sized zit, I poked again, just a little harder this time.
Spider STILL did not let go.The beetle by this time was starting to resist less and less. I figured this was because it saw I was trying to help it and wanted to assist me as much as it could. The spider, with the beetle still fixed firmly in its clutches, squared around on my twig, like it was about to make some kind of move. I had enough. I took the twig a jabbed that little SOB right on it's head. Not hard enough to kill...just to get it to let up. That did the trick. The spider let go of the beetle...THEN CAME AFTER MY TWIG! Like a batter who had just been beaned by a high fastball, that spider rushed my twig. I fell back startled, a little cry of surprise escaping my lips. Then, feeling my manhood at stake, I lunged back at the little demon, finally succeeding in sending it scurrying back to where it came from.
Wiping the sweat from my brow (Yes...honest to god sweat) I turned my attention to my little beetle friend for whom I had entered this altercation in the first place. He was moving slowly away. I smiled and wished him well. Then I got my mower and cut the grass.
The grass cutting went well. I found my dog, rescued the neighbor's kids, and even found a lost UPS guy that I was able to send on his way. On my way to put the lawn mower back I crossed the scene of the epic battle I had taken part in forty minutes before. The beetle was still there.
Dead.
Dead or sleeping, and I doubt it was sleeping.
All that hard work for nothing. In fact all I did do was piss off one tough little spider who is probably maneuvering behind my head right this very second, looking for the perfect angle to sink its fangs into my flesh.
Now there is a comforting thought to carry me off to sleep...
The mower needs a new fuel line, but in addition to being a lazy ass, I am also a pretty cheap bastard (unless a new hardcover book or DVD limited edition laser coded collectors set comes out) so I wanted to see if I could patch the leak so I could get as much mileage out of the machine as I could. I got some epoxy, a Q-Tip, and a pair of rubber gloves and went to work. Twenty minutes later I pulled on the cord to start her up and she sputtered to life, once more saved from the brink of annihilation.
I shut the mower down and went back in to inform my wife that from now on I was to be addressed as Macgyver and given the proper respect for being the master of fixing all things mechanical. From the depths of the book she had her nose buried in, I heard something that sounded vaguely like "That's great. Now when are you going to "MACGYVER" the porch steps, the upstairs toilet, the...". I did not catch the rest as I was caught up in the heady exultation of my rugged manliness. The rest probably wasn't very important.
So I headed back outside to actually use my miraculously healed mower to begin cutting the grass when a shuffle of movement stopped me short. It was down on the ground and I just barely caught it out of the corner of my right eye. Looking for ANY excuse to delay the actual physical labor (SO much for Macgyver) I bent down to see what had caught my attention.
A beetle and a spider were caught in a life or death battle royal before my eyes. I am no arachnologist (a person who studies spiders...I know this because I looked it up on Wikkipedia, and we all know how accurate and reliable that fount of information is) so I do not know what type of spider I was looking at. It was fairly small and white, with brown markings on its back. It was latched onto a copper colored beetle that was three times it's size. It was latched onto the beetle's shoulder (yes, I know, beetles don't HAVE shoulders, but I am too lazy to hop back on Wikkipedia and find out what you call the place where a beetle's head meets it's neck) in a kung fu death grip. The beetle was flailing like hell to beat that little spider off, but the spider was having none of it. Like a drunk cowboy on a mechanical bull its tiny body was being thrashed around, but it was not losing it's grip.
I watched this go on for a few minutes, a commentator with a really bad British accent calling the fight in my head.
What does that say about me? Not only can I not perform a decent British accent out loud, I can't even imagine a good one.
As I watched I felt bad for the beetle. I have seen the Lion King so I know about the whole circle of life thing, blah, blah, blah...but I still felt bad for the little guy. He had probably been heading home after a long day of...well...doing whatever it is that beetles do for a living. The wife had probably nagged him to remember to stop and pick up a little bit of dung for her and the kids, and all he had in his mind was getting it done quickly so he could get home and fall asleep watching Lost. (What? Everyone is watching Lost these days...why not the beetle?) Then suddenly, from out of no where, this damn little spider with a Napolean complex bites into the poor guy, releasing an arachnologist knows what kind of poison into his system, and then tries to take him down. I felt for the little guy. So I reached down and grabbed a nearby twig. I took the twig and poked at the spider, trying to get it to let go of the beetle. And do you know what? That little bugger did not move an inch. In fact its two thin front legs came up in what looked like a defensive boxer's position. That littlesucker was taking me on. Legs raised like a boxer's arms, daring me to mess with it. As if saying 'Yeah, I got this beetle to take care of right now, but when I get done with him, I'll take a piece of your shoulder too'. Not being one to take attitude from anyone, especially a creature smaller than a decent sized zit, I poked again, just a little harder this time.
Spider STILL did not let go.The beetle by this time was starting to resist less and less. I figured this was because it saw I was trying to help it and wanted to assist me as much as it could. The spider, with the beetle still fixed firmly in its clutches, squared around on my twig, like it was about to make some kind of move. I had enough. I took the twig a jabbed that little SOB right on it's head. Not hard enough to kill...just to get it to let up. That did the trick. The spider let go of the beetle...THEN CAME AFTER MY TWIG! Like a batter who had just been beaned by a high fastball, that spider rushed my twig. I fell back startled, a little cry of surprise escaping my lips. Then, feeling my manhood at stake, I lunged back at the little demon, finally succeeding in sending it scurrying back to where it came from.
Wiping the sweat from my brow (Yes...honest to god sweat) I turned my attention to my little beetle friend for whom I had entered this altercation in the first place. He was moving slowly away. I smiled and wished him well. Then I got my mower and cut the grass.
The grass cutting went well. I found my dog, rescued the neighbor's kids, and even found a lost UPS guy that I was able to send on his way. On my way to put the lawn mower back I crossed the scene of the epic battle I had taken part in forty minutes before. The beetle was still there.
Dead.
Dead or sleeping, and I doubt it was sleeping.
All that hard work for nothing. In fact all I did do was piss off one tough little spider who is probably maneuvering behind my head right this very second, looking for the perfect angle to sink its fangs into my flesh.
Now there is a comforting thought to carry me off to sleep...
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
My Backyard
The grass in my backyard is getting long.
Not simply 'gee that yard needs a trim' long.
No.
We are talking 'My God Johnson...the dog wandered into the backyard and we haven't seen her FOR TEN DAYS!' kind of long.
The reason for this amazonization of my beloved backyard is two fold.
The first reason is quite simple. I am a lazy ass. This is the true and underlying reason for a lot of things actually.
The second reason is that the fuel line is leaking. Now some might be tempted to take reason number one (lazy ass) and IMPLY that I intentionally caused reason number two, in a sort of midnight Mission Impossible maneuver involving some suspension wires, a sharp pointy object, and Tom Cruise's tight pants.
While the thought of suspension of grass cutting duties via intentional sabotauge was certainly tempting (except for the pants...seriously...picture 10 pounds of lumpy playdough stuffed into a seven pound bag) I did not in any way fiddle with the integrity of the lawnmower. The line just developed what nature does to all things over the course of time. Age cracks.
What I should be doing right now, instead of sitting here on the laptop, is getting off said lazy ass, getting the keys to my car, and heading over to Sears to get a replacement piece.
Because I just looked out the back window and I swear to god, I think I saw natives moving stealthfully through my jungle on their way to storm the back door.
Not simply 'gee that yard needs a trim' long.
No.
We are talking 'My God Johnson...the dog wandered into the backyard and we haven't seen her FOR TEN DAYS!' kind of long.
The reason for this amazonization of my beloved backyard is two fold.
The first reason is quite simple. I am a lazy ass. This is the true and underlying reason for a lot of things actually.
The second reason is that the fuel line is leaking. Now some might be tempted to take reason number one (lazy ass) and IMPLY that I intentionally caused reason number two, in a sort of midnight Mission Impossible maneuver involving some suspension wires, a sharp pointy object, and Tom Cruise's tight pants.
While the thought of suspension of grass cutting duties via intentional sabotauge was certainly tempting (except for the pants...seriously...picture 10 pounds of lumpy playdough stuffed into a seven pound bag) I did not in any way fiddle with the integrity of the lawnmower. The line just developed what nature does to all things over the course of time. Age cracks.
What I should be doing right now, instead of sitting here on the laptop, is getting off said lazy ass, getting the keys to my car, and heading over to Sears to get a replacement piece.
Because I just looked out the back window and I swear to god, I think I saw natives moving stealthfully through my jungle on their way to storm the back door.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Sunday, June 29, 2008
The Blank Page
Why do you stare at me?
Your field of white, a flashing cursor to display...what?
Will I win today? Will my thoughts crawl upon your flawless surface?
Or will you? Will your blank canvas intimidate me so that I concede defeat.
Close the page and slink away.
To weakly say...
maybe tomorrow.
Your field of white, a flashing cursor to display...what?
Will I win today? Will my thoughts crawl upon your flawless surface?
Or will you? Will your blank canvas intimidate me so that I concede defeat.
Close the page and slink away.
To weakly say...
maybe tomorrow.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Get the FLOCK out of here...
So I am trying Flock. It looks pretty cool but let's give it time to see how it works out. This is my practice blog from Flock. No pearls of wisdom, no nuggets of knowledge. Just the wish that I hadn't eaten that spicy food last night because lord, it is tearing me up.
That and I wish I was a Toys R Us kid...
That and I wish I was a Toys R Us kid...
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons...
The ramp I use to get off Interstate 95 in the mornings has a guardrail protecting sleepy motorists from the dangerous possibility of veering off the ramp and tumbling down the not so steep embankment to land back on the Interstate itself, upside down on their rooftops most likely. The last fifteen feet or so of this guardrail have become over the years a gathering place for bumper stickers. I have lived in this area all my life and have yet to actually see a motorist slapping a sticker down, but nevertheless the gray surface of the guardrail is covered in a multicolored mishmash of pictures and slogans. Some of these stickers are so time worn the sage advice they once contained is almost illegible. Others are so new the sunlight reflects most effectively into my sleepy eyes off the glossy surface as I wait to finish my commute to work.
I am sure there are guardrails like this all over America, dutifully preserving the lives of commuters while at the same time being turned into miniature billboards for metal bands, politicians, restaurants, and a thousand insults hurled at random. I always wonder why the people sitting in their cars had these bumper stickers so readily available in the first place. Do these people drive around with a case full, ready to find a spare spot of space at any given moment in time? Or do they plan ahead...purchasing the stickers days in advance of their assault on the guardrail? Whatever the case, there are easily over a hundred stickers out there, weathering the elements day in and day out.
There is one in particular that always catches my attention. The sticker itself is unremarkable. White letters, all caps, on a green background. It is the saying itself that sticks with me. The sticker sits parked between a Bush insult (There is a town in Texas that is missing it's idiot) and a campaign for an obscure Delaware politician who ran for the state senate six years ago. The words are wise, advice so compelling it is surprising it does not come from the pages of the bible itself.
DO NOT MEDDLE IN THE AFFAIRS OF DRAGONS FOR YOU ARE CRUNCHY AND GOOD WITH KETCHUP.
Those my friends, are words to live by.
I am sure there are guardrails like this all over America, dutifully preserving the lives of commuters while at the same time being turned into miniature billboards for metal bands, politicians, restaurants, and a thousand insults hurled at random. I always wonder why the people sitting in their cars had these bumper stickers so readily available in the first place. Do these people drive around with a case full, ready to find a spare spot of space at any given moment in time? Or do they plan ahead...purchasing the stickers days in advance of their assault on the guardrail? Whatever the case, there are easily over a hundred stickers out there, weathering the elements day in and day out.
There is one in particular that always catches my attention. The sticker itself is unremarkable. White letters, all caps, on a green background. It is the saying itself that sticks with me. The sticker sits parked between a Bush insult (There is a town in Texas that is missing it's idiot) and a campaign for an obscure Delaware politician who ran for the state senate six years ago. The words are wise, advice so compelling it is surprising it does not come from the pages of the bible itself.
DO NOT MEDDLE IN THE AFFAIRS OF DRAGONS FOR YOU ARE CRUNCHY AND GOOD WITH KETCHUP.
Those my friends, are words to live by.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
A lifelong desire to be like the cool kids...
Since all the cool kids have blogs, I have decided I need one as well.
What this blog will turn out to be I cannot say. The clutter in my mind will guide its formation. I will promise that it will NOT become a treatise on politics OR religion. While these topics might tickle my fancy from time to time, I will not worship at the altar of preachy self indulgence here.
Some one asked me about the strange name of the blog. I am a huge admirer of all things Python (Monty) and the non-de-plume is taken from one of my favorite episodes. Long story short, SpinyNorman is a fifty foot tall hedgehog who chases the notorious gangster Dinsdale Piranha around the streets of London.
Hedgehogs the size of small buildings who harass criminal overlords rock.
'Nuff said.
As the hour is late , the only thought in my head currently is a deep desire for sleep. So I will go off and find some.
What this blog will turn out to be I cannot say. The clutter in my mind will guide its formation. I will promise that it will NOT become a treatise on politics OR religion. While these topics might tickle my fancy from time to time, I will not worship at the altar of preachy self indulgence here.
Some one asked me about the strange name of the blog. I am a huge admirer of all things Python (Monty) and the non-de-plume is taken from one of my favorite episodes. Long story short, SpinyNorman is a fifty foot tall hedgehog who chases the notorious gangster Dinsdale Piranha around the streets of London.
Hedgehogs the size of small buildings who harass criminal overlords rock.
'Nuff said.
As the hour is late , the only thought in my head currently is a deep desire for sleep. So I will go off and find some.
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