I Can If You Can

I was sitting here wondering what I could do with the nearly one thousand aluminum cans I have laying around. My mind drifted toward 1976 and a faded memory of a beer can hat that my Grandpa used to wear on fishing trips. That's it. Now I just need to learn to knit. To be honest, my cans are all from Diet Coke. Nothing says STUD, or ProFisherman like a Diet cola hat! Ok, let's scrap that idea. Besides, that would require 5 cans at the most. I have so many I'm about to start using exponents when I refer to their mass. I could build a table or perhaps an ottoman, but my wife has far too much taste to allow that. I would love the kitsch though.

First Rule of Marriage: Defer to wife in matters of taste and or smell.

I believe I could produce a passable dog house from the Aspartame Shrine. It's silver-like sheen would reflect heat. Without liberal use of some type of mortar there would be great air flow. Knowing my dogs though, the slightest scent of something sweet and tasty would be too much for them. They would be certain to destroy it.

Oh my. I love moments of inspiration. If I combined my two favorite things in the world, charity and irony, I might have a wonderful pop song on my hands! Or, I could build a house of cans for the homeless. Thank you. I know. How do I do it? The beauty of this is, I would be building the shelter from what amounts to Hobo currency. It would be shelter, bank, and an exercise in self restraint. If, as the new resident of the (now poorly named) Coke House, you were having an economic rough patch, you could always do a little remodel. "Add" a window for instance. When you have an unusually good day of can hunting, build a patio. Add a second bedroom. There are valuable lessons to be learned. Hard work, ingenuity, moderation. It is true that most problems can be solved by a little out of the can thinking.

To celebrate the start of this new endeavor, I would like to buy the world a Coke. It's the real thing. Have one, and a smile.

Coke: We never set Micheal Jackson's hair on fire!

Cheers everyone. Pop that top and let's open up the beginnings of a new foundation.

Hot Water Burn Baby

You can't judge a person by appearance. As the axiom goes, judge one by his actions. What if you can't even use that criteria?

There is a man I often see on my route. He is older. Perhaps mid-fifties. He always makes a point of waving to me and calling out "Hey Mailman." He always looked as though he might be a little on the slow side to me, but in an effort to end judgementalism, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Lately, he has decided that we should have a little talk time each day. First he just stopped and offered me candy. I was glad to have it, and thanked him very much. Soon that offering had become cookies. I'm not crazy about eating unwrapped (possibly home-made) treats, but i accepted anyway. This went on for a few weeks.

Last Saturday, the Fashion show started. He came wandering past my truck. I said hello, hoping that it would be enough to keep him moving. It was a hot day and I was ready to go home. He stopped though and asked me, "Do you like my boots? They are new." They did indeed have that new boot shine. I said I did, and seeming satisfied he went on his way.

Monday: Here he comes again. He stops. Again. "What do you think of my shirt?" Hmm...I think I hope that it stays ON!

"It looks great"

"Thank you." He turned to leave but stopped short. "It's blue."

I had to take his word for it. I am color blind you see. I'm not sure what the significance of the Tee's color was. At this point I felt justified in thinking that this man was quite daft. Feeble even. He had moved on after the what I am now calling, The Pigment Proclamation. I was left to shake my head and wonder.

Tuesday: I was making my rounds when I noticed a man walking down the street in my direction. For some reason , he was wearing a full face-mask motorcycle helmet. When he came closer, I realized that it was my buddy Raymond, as I had taken to thinking of him. Oh boy! This should be good. I imagined a quite a conversation ahead. "Yes, that IS a nice helmet. Safety first I say!" He walked right past me though. I have to admit I was a little disappointed. Oh well. There's always tomorrow and all manner of head gear possibilities.

I moved on and rounded the corner to the next street. A very shiny, very LOUD motorcycle was barreling down this street. Mr. Raymond at the wheel. He glanced in my direction as he passed me, waving and revving his growling engine. Then he made a sliding, one foot on the ground, half donut move. Course reversed, he waved at me again, this time goodbye as he drove off out of sight.

I did not judge Ray by the way he looked. I even wanted to give him a pass on the way he acted. Maybe he was just lonely right? But over those past few days I had decided that he had some mental deficiencies. I couldn't imagine that he was even capable of handling a motorbike, let alone be ok with the fact that he was anyway, like it or not. I thought about calling the police. What would i have said? "Hello, there is a fashion conscious old man riding a motor cycle here! Send back up!"

After seeing the sweet U turn he had pulled though I couldn't rightly complain that he was not capable of handling his machine. Hell I couldn't have done that. I decided to let the dude have his fun. One thing is certain, if I see him coming down the street wearing say..... Scuba gear perhaps, I will NOT let him walk on by. His apartment complex has a swimming pool so I have a good idea where he would be headed. One should never Scuba alone!

To Do List....

I was thinking about all the cool things in life that I have yet to do. So I decided to make a list of what I want to accomplish before I die.

Fall out of a skyscraper window and land safely on an awning. Possibly falling from that into a waiting convertible.

Catch a fish that is larger than I am. Don't want to kill it, just tire and humiliate it. Catch and release.

Start a fashion trend that sweeps the nation.

Yell fire in a crowded theater.

Lead a protest rally.

Wrestle a Bear.

Foment a Revolution.

Box a Kangaroo.

Be pursued in a Low Speed chase.

Jump from/onto a moving car.

Learn to affect a perfect English accent, win Brittan's Got Talent, then stun the world by revealing that I am an American.

Roll down a hill in a barrel.

Teach a Parrot to swear.

Visit the Great Wall of China. While there, fight off a band of ninjas.

Through a case of mistaken identity, become President for a day.

Free a Slave.

Foil a Terrorist attack.

Fight an Alien.

Hack into my bank's data base. Give myself five dollars.

Come from behind to win the Tour de France.

Own a bicycle worth as much as my car.

Own a car worth as much as my house.

Acquire a cool one word nickname. Perhaps Spike. Or Snake.

Play Russian Roulette. With a Russian.

Have a drink named after me.

Call my stock broker and dramatically scream, "SELL! SELL!"

Tame a lion with only a three legged stool and charm.

Get kicked off of a reality show.

Get struck by lightning. Twice.

Get a hole in one.

Be a benevolent cult leader.

Host a morning radio show.

Accept a diploma while naked under my gown.

Ask a policeman if I can have a bite of his hot-dog.

Stand up in court and state strongly, "I object!"

Hang a jury.

Badger a witness until he/she confesses on the stand.

Grow a prize winning pumpkin.

Set explosives and demolish a building.

Punch a horse, but only if he deserved it.

Fumble the football to kill a game winning drive.

Coach Fresno State to a National Title.

Become and International Jewel Thief.

Make love. Not war.

Win a B.E.T award.

Land an airplane after the pilot dies mid flight.

Design a phone that JUST makes phone calls.

Walk on stilts.

Ride in a sidecar while wearing aviator goggles.

Armed with a sledge hammer, free the lobsters at Red Lobster. Grab some Cheddar biscuits on the way out.

Make the perfect potato salad.

Go "All-IN" at the World Series of Poker.

Challenge the Devil to a Duel.

Nap on a hammock strung between two palm trees.

Make a snow angel on the Moon.

Have a foot race with a horse.

Become the tallest jockey to win the Kentucky Derby.

Sing in the rain.

Break up a bar fight.

Step into quicksand.

Swing over a roaring river on a vine.

Take a walk wearing only a fig leaf.

Rescue a hostage.

Receive an Indecent Proposal.

Deliver a letter via Pony Express.

Win an Oscar and send a Native American to accept as my proxy.

Smoke a Peace Pipe.

Sit on the couch and think about things I COULD be doing.......Finally. A good starting point.

If you have any cool goals of your own please let me know. I would be VERY interested.

Battle Stations!

Quite a few years ago I used to enjoy a website called WorlWideWebFights (WWWF). The good folks there would hold theoretical battles between any number of pop culture icons. I loved that crap. With apologies to them I am about to stage my own battle.....

Today's bout will be between those two titans of teen-pop music. I give you.....Madonna Vs. Brittney Spears. Our commentators today will be Brett, on behalf of Madonna, and J'main, who supports Ms. Spears. I will be your humble moderator.

J'main: Well now Brett, this could be a very short night. The last time we saw Britt and Madge together they were swapping spit on stage at the MTV awards. It's safe to assume that Madge would be...shall we say Trusting of Britt. Ms. Spears will invite Ms. Donna to carpool with her to the teen choice awards. As we know, Britt does not ensure that passengers are properly secured by safety belts (or infant car seats). We also know that she speeds. One well timed stomp on her break pedal will send Madge through the windshield. Game over. And it will all look like an accident.

Brett: J'main....tsk tsk. You clearly have not done your homework. Madonna, if you didn't know, is Italian American. She is, shall we say, in the "Family" She of course would not like to speak of that. Still, members of that group are not very trusting. They know all too well the damage that can be done to a person with just a simple, innocuous automobile. She will send a couple of Goomba...I mean friends over to inspect the car before hand. I know you think your plan is so air tight because they will find nothing unusual. This will only make Madonna more suspicious. Luckily, she has been preparing for this for a few years now. You might have heard her interviewed recently. Did you notice the faux British accent? Or the hat that looks like it belongs to a balding Cuban cab driver? Clearly if this ride to Teen Choice were to ever take place, Madonna would be the chauffeur. Driving Miss Britney.

Once they get to the venue, Madonna, who is known for her ability to constantly reinvent herself, will don a disguise, probably a gay back up dancer, and then the waiting game begins. She will bide her time until Britt has her time on stage. When Britt floats back stage on one of those crazy harnesses that she seems to love so much, and, forgetting her microphone is live announces that "ouch! my [vagina] is caught"

Just the moment Madge is waiting for. She will attack Brittney, pummelling her to death. Good night sweet princess. Long live the Queen.

J'main: Clearly you have not heard of a little thing called the Internet. On this Internet, you can see a NOT so little thing called Brittney Spears' vagina. I believe that Stretch Armstrong comes to mind. When attacked by Madge, she will grab her Match Game skinny microphone, pull back her labial Bow String.....and shoot Madge squarely in the chest. Her name IS Spears for godsake.

Britt: Please. Do you really want to argue vaginal elasticity? Madonna has been servicing the steroid enhanced ROD of Alex Rodriguez. I don't think you want to battle on that front.

J'main: Point for you Britt. Madge is definitely the bigger whore. But she did not have the technical skills or the Deep Down Rage to do what was necessary to win. Maybe it was Alzheimer's. Game Set Match.

What J'main did not realize was that Madonna had been saved by Jesus. Her adopted son from south America. He had given her a Solid steel Saint Christopher Medal, which had taken the brunt of Britt's microphone attack. I would have to give this match to Brittney Spears. She gets points for being on the offense and also for ingenuity . If you have any further commentary or suggestions for other match ups, feels free to leave a comment.

And The Winner Is.....

It's that time of year again. June first. When we all break out the bottle of champale and look back at the half year past. Here is my list for the best of 2009.5

Best Newly Discovered Music: Jeffrey Lewis. If you have been reading my blog, you know that I have been searching for interesting music. I stumbled upon this sub-sub-genre of "anti-folk" music. I love it. Music for smart people. 

Best Website: Pandora.com. This is a great site for people looking to broaden their musical horizons. It's where I found the aforementioned Jeff Lewis. 

Best Movie: Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. This may be a 2008 flick but I just saw it so there! This movie was very formula but that's not a bad thing if that formula equals a good time. It's the oft told story of Geeky guy that makes good. As a Geek in good standing, it resonated with me. It's the Sixteen Candles of the new Millennium.

Best TV Show: This one was a close call. I was on the verge of giving the nod to Battlestar Galactica. (Again, I have just seen it!!!) In the end I had to go with what was for sure the most Different show I saw all half-year.  Drum roll.....Dexter! What that show pulls of is astounding. I loved it!

Best Brush With Greatness: I had a chance to attend the Tour of California bicycle race. Visalia actually had a stage of it's very own and I was lucky enough to come face to face with Lance Armstrong. While I can't compete with his pedal pushing abilities I did secretly feel Superior in the "most testicles" category.

Best Quote: After the California courts upheld Proposition 8 (upholding the ban on gay marriage)  A local woman was speaking on the radio news broadcast. "I am not gonna be a nice gay anymore. NO MORE MR. NICE GAY!" I do love irony.

Best Comeback: My hair. After four or five years of shaving my head, I let it all hang out this year. I missed it while it was gone!

The Joy Of Sharing Award: This one goes to ME! And my wife Leslie. We had her friend Tiffany over to watch Flight of the Conchords. You know when you love something SOOOO much that you are afraid to share it because you can't bear the idea that others won't feel the same? Well we took a chance and she loved it as much as we do. Sharing is Caring!

Best New Friend: Tiffany Moore. She's a riot and it's possible we are related.

Best Old Friend Award: Jeff Chapman. Love that dude. Probably not related though.

Best Failed Attempt at Physical Activity: My failed attempt at becoming a runner. My knees were just not into it. It was a little depressing. It made me feel old. Next time I want to recapture my youth maybe I will just buy a convertible.

Before we get to Person of the Year we should take a moment to look back on the things we lost.....

Remembrances: 

Bea Arthur (1922-2009)  She was awesome!

Head Shaving (2004-2009) I'm glad to be rid of that one. 

G.M. (1908-2009) GM filed for bankruptcy today. It was very sad.

My Mojo (1994-.....) Not sure when I lost it but i did. Tune in next year and hopefully there will be a wonderful story about how I got my Groove back.

And now....the moment we have all been waiting for.....

Person of the Year (2009.5) Leslie Cooke

    Leslie wins this award for the nineteenth time. Take that Susan Lucci. There are many reasons (not the least of which is that she is reading over my shoulder) but most important she is my best friend and I love her dearly.

Fear And Self-Loathing In Visalia

I have read that the human brain weighs about thirteen pounds. I have no reason to doubt this (especially since the only way to be sure would require separating my brain from my body) but when the mind (which it seems to me should be weightless) turns on you, it has the avoirdupois of a ton of brick! 

A friend of mine is having a major freak out about taking a big step forward in her job. Fear has her in a death grip! I understand biologically speaking, fear is a defense mechanism. It is supposed to keep us from doing dangerous things. Often though, I find that it keeps me from doing things that are quite the opposite of dangerous. It keeps some of us from meeting new people or finding a better job. Those sound like good things. So what is the evolutionary reasoning behind the fear and anxiety people find themselves suffering from? Uhg! Remember that commercial that said a Mind is a Terrible thing to waste? It was half right! 

I suppose that this is the much hyped Fight or Flight response. Well, too often I have chosen Flight. I guess all we can hope for is the wisdom to know when it's time to stand and Fight. We are only fighting ourselves anyway. And the only way to lose is by NOT fighting. In a perfect world, I guess it would be better to not play this game at all. Damn! 80's teen movie wisdom alert! It's like Joshua (whopper) in War Games. He (?)  finally realized after playing endless games of tic tac toe that the  only winning move is to not play at all! 

Sadly our minds usually dont leave that as an option. So as long as we have that inner voice screaming at us, "shall we play a game?" I say to you....stand and Fight! 

Par For The Course

I found myself once again at the Local Golf Course this past weekend. I was just out to finish off my day with a relaxing 9 holes. I started out pretty well, with a par and then a Birdie. Often that will be the beginning of the end of "good" play for me. Today was different though. The Gods of Golf were smiling upon me. At the seventh hole I had a three foot putt that would leave me sitting at even Par. If all you know of Golf is what you see on Sunday afternoon television, you are probably thinking, umm...yea? And? The pro's on TV routinely shoot scores well BELOW par. Well I am here to tell you, that is not real life. Golf is hard!!!! To shoot anywhere near par is an amazing feat for the average golfer. So with that thought in my head, I stepped up and missed that three foot putt. I will admit it, I choked. Nerves were really getting to me. I did make the follow up putt for par, leaving me one stroke over par for the round. On the final hole I barely missed another par putt. That one really hurt. So I finished my day at Two strokes over Par. This was by far the best 9 holes of golf I have ever played. It felt amazing, except that it didn't. This is the confounding thing about golf. No matter how well you play, you always feel like there were at least a couple of shots left on the course. The what if's will make you nuts! As I sat on the lip of my open trunk changing my shoes, I seriously thought about quitting all together. I played SO well that afternoon, and still I didn't really enjoy it. Well that's not true. I did enjoy it. But I didn't get satisfaction. I could have done more. I realized that this is what it will always be. It's an unbeatable game. Do I want to beat my head up against that wall for the rest of my life? Frustrating!!!

Having put a few days between me and that day, I can say that I feel better about it now. It was pretty awesome. I suppose I am not trying to best Golf itself. I am only trying to beat ME! To do better tomorrow than I did today. And if not, then to come back the day after and try again. Most importantly, I just want to have fun no matter how I am playing. Most days I can say I do accomplish that. So tomorrow I have the day off. Where would I rather be than at the course, giving it my all? Well, maybe spending time with my wife, but she is working, so....I am good on that. Right? 

And Now With Pictures

I have decided to do a little experiment. Occasionally I am going to try to add some of my own drawings to my posts. I am at least as skilled as an artist as I am as a writer, which is to say not very. So this should be interesting! Please be aware of my fragile ego when it comes time to comment. 

The Agony of Irony

For those that don't know, I live in a desert. Today was the first painfully hot day of the year. 104* in the shade. So....stay out of the shade! I decided to go have myself a meatless burger at Chili's. Now there is a place that lives up to it's name. Maybe even exceeds it. It was at BEST chilly in that place, to my sweaty body that I spent the whole day acclimating to the heat, it was FREEZING!!! I always want to die in an interesting way. Freezing to death on the hottest day of the year seems about right. Seriously, it was about 50* in there. BRR!!! I find human excess interesting. Clearly on a hot day you want to be inside a nice air conditioned building. Say, a balmy 72*. That's apparently not enough for the staff of Chili's. They want to slide right past comfortable, to the point that the temperature is all you can think about. Seems defeatist. Isn't the point of A/C to make you comfortable?  I would like to challenge everyone to make an effort to show some restraint this week. In what ever you do. It's empowering to NOT do something that you know you could. Yes, you could drive your car at 100 mph. Try 65 instead. Jumbo pizza? Nah, try the small. Or perhaps a salad. Feel like fondling yourself all evening....well we DO need a little bit of fun in life. 

The fact that I write this is a little bit ironic in and of itself. I am a hardcore Capitalist. Yet I find myself arguing the merits of scaling back. Right sizing I like to call it. 

While on the topic, how about some linguistic irony. Why is it called a Chili when it is so freaking HOT?!?!? It's a Latin conspiracy. 

I Am What Popeye Is

For some reason I was thinking about Popeye today. It occurred to me that the two of us have much in common. Maybe you will agree. 

1) We are both vegetarian. Although Popeye enjoyed his spinach from a can, we are both down with the greens. 

2) The Pipe. You almost never see the Popster without his pipe. Few people know this about me, but I used to rock the Bubble blowing Pipe when I was a kid. Made small bubbles....but the volume was killer!

3) Bad Hair Days. Like me, Popeye is trying to work a comb-over. I would argue that I have been more successful, since Pop is working with just a single hair. Neither of us are fooling anyone though.

4) We both look good in a hat. Enough said.

5) Giant Forearms. Pop and I both wear our guns slung low. I am more of a Lone Gunman though as only my right forearm is well developed. Lone gunman is quite appropriate considering the method employed to Pump my arm. Many LONEly nights as a teen. 

6) We both love Olive Oil. I prefer my olive oil warmed with some crushed garlic, rather than with knobby knees and an dowdy skirt that shows no skin. That said, I think if you cut us, we bleed olive drab!

7) Parenting by Proxy. I was never quite clear on Pop's relationship to SweetPea. Was that Olive's baby? I'm pretty sure Pop wasn't the baby daddy. Maybe she was Blutos. An Olive/Bluto divorce would explain a lot of the animosity. What ever the case, it seems Pop was always responsible for SweetPea even though she wasn't his by oil. Every time the government runs out of money, they claim they need more. You know, for the kids. We all have to do our part. For the kids. I DON'T HAVE KIDS!! Like Pop, I am always there when they need me though. 

8) Existentialism. We know that Popeye had thought long and hard about the meaning of life and his place in the Universe. It can be best summed up by his most famous quote. "I am what I am. And that's all that I am." I am not sure I share his view. There must be more to me than....ME?! Clearly though we both are knowledge seekers. 

Popeye and I do part ways in some areas. I don't have a mortal enemy. Which is good because unlike Pop, I also carry no emergency Spinach supplies. Still....we both mumble a lot. And chuckle. And we both have a Lazy eye. Although Pop's has  possibly crossed the lazy/dead line. All in all.....I am what he is. 

Samson and the Brazilian Wax

Since I have been cursed with a balding head, I decided a few years ago that my only option was the full shave. Seeing someone that resembled a Bald me staring back at me from the mirror never really sat well with me though. So recently I have been letting my bald flag fly, and regrowing my hair. It's thin. But I sure missed it. A few strands of hair, deftly laid, can cover a lot of glowing skin. 

One pleasant surprise: Since my hair is fairly curly, now when I see a stray hair laying around I don't have to assume pube! For that reason alone, when the comb over/across begins to fail, I am going to get the full Brazilian! 

Please pray for a cure to Baldness. Thank you in advance.

The One

I think it's possible that I have an inferiority complex. Sort of. I guess the technical definition would be that I feel like I am not as good as others. That's not exactly where I am at. I don't think I am worse, or below anyone. And I don't think that I am above anyone. Everyone is equal. I guess what I have is an Equality Complex. I think it's a good thing. Sounds very healthy anyway.

So, why is it, that I think that I, Mr. Everyman, will be the ONE to get the neoteric Swine Flu? I'm such a hypochondriac. Every time I hear about the symptoms, suddenly I have that. Yesterday I had to stop on the way home from work to buy a thermometer. It was a warmish day, but I was convinced that the light sheen of sweat I was rockin' HAD to be from a fever. Flu is everywhere! I absolutely should have taken my temp rectally, but I couldn't get my head out of the way. Those allergic sniffles I have every year at this time? Pig Virus! Of course.  

It didn't help when my friend called to tell me that he was now under quarantine. Seems he had been to Tijuana last week and woke up feeling a little Flu-ish.  HOLY CRAP! " Can this virus travel through telephone lines" I thought. Of course I was on a Cell phone so it would have been zipping along on the microwaves, from cell tower to cell tower. Paranoia runs deep! His doctor had confined him to his house until he could be tested by the Center For Disease Control. That happened today but I haven't heard the results yet. Hopefully that will be a false alarm. 

It's pretty strange. I don't genuinely expect to get Swine Flu. Even if I did, I would most likely survive. Tell that to my vivid imagination though. GRRRR! Sometimes you can be your own worst enemy. 

Just heard that there are two cases of the Flu here in our town. A couple of grammar school students. The School has been closed down for the time being. Hmm.....just because I am paranoid doesn't mean that the virus isn't out there............

Turning Green on The Greens

Its interesting to me that people always want what they don't have. I was at the golf course once again. I joined up with a fellow single player, which has become a nice way for me to meet people. You learn a lot about folks by how they handle themselves while playing golf. So the guy I was playing with could hit the ball pretty damn far. I myself have always been a rather shortISH hitter. As we played along I was in awe of how hard he hit the ball. I wanna do that!!!! Unfortunately he couldn't hit it straight. So as we walked to our balls, I could see him eyeing my ball, more often than not laying in the fairway. It was an invidious reminder of what he could not do. He told me later that he wished he could hit it straighter and I admitted that farther sure seemed better. It was funny how neither of us really appreciated our own little slice of skill from the Golf Lime Pie. It was decided that if we were to have a child it would make a pretty good golfer. Well, actually it was ME that said that and it became a little uncomfortable after that. 

In the end we both scored about the same. It's a lot like life. There are many roads to any destination. Find yours and then relax and enjoy the ride. If you are constantly rubber necking the guy in the other lane you are liable to miss some  amazing (if nor spectacular)  things going on right on front of you. 

And That's The Way It Is.....

When I think about a quality Newscast, I think of Walter Cronkite. Good ol' Walt telling it like it happened. Just the facts. Of course I am too young to remember Cronkite, and I have been wondering lately if he really did throw down the straight dope. I am convinced that there is NO modern media person giving a straight, unbiased account of the days news. I was a CNN watcher for many years. I always felt that the coverage there was a little left leaning but I am a smart enough guy to comb through all that and figure out the reality of any given story. That worked ok for a while. Then along came Fox News. Fair and Balanced they say. At first I thought that they were just that. I was just happy to see news coming from a different perspective. I have been wondering more and more why there needs to be any perspective at all. Most people I know have chosen sides. You probably think that, either Fox is a bunch of Nazi's, or CNN is Socialist Propaganda. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground. It all seems very divisive to me. Worse, I heard somewhere ( don't remember where ) about a study that concluded that most people will gravitate toward the news source that most reflects the opinion (bias) that they already have.  Uhhg! This is so bad for everyone involved. I don't know about you, but I like to have my beliefs challenged. It makes me understand myself and the issues so much better. And you know, sometimes I do change my mind. The truth is the truth and I am open to it. 

If I were to win life's lottery, I would like to start a news channel that just reports the facts. As they happened. No spin. No agenda.  Clearly I would have no viewers, so this better be one of those multi state power ball type lottery wins. Seems no one wants facts, as they are sticky things. 

I do want to say that I love to hear opinion too. I just like it to be labeled as such. I toggle back and forth between Olberman AND O'Reily for gods sake. 

I think I am going to stick to the Onion for all my news needs. Sure it's fake, but it is so entertaining!!

Click this to see a good (bad?) example of what I mean. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2baxw_YScxc

But Then Again......

Ok....I am not a Pimp. But if I was going to be, I would be this guy!!  http://www.thosearentmuskets.com/sketches/thepimp.html

Vindicated!

For anyone that saw my rant about the Next Top Model nonsense, check this out. http://www.startribune.com/lifestyle/family/42687007.html?elr=KArksLckD8EQDUoaEyqyP4O:DW3ckUiD3aPc:_Yyc:aUnciaec8O7EyUsl Finally I am ahead of the curve!

Dreams Do Come True

Over the years I have had just one recurring dream. Well, the theme of it is the same anyway. Usually it involves me being at work. It seems that on this day in particular I have more than the usual amount of work to do, and it feels like, half the time to do it in. So I am Hustling! The problem is that I can't do anything right. I drop things. Or, I find that the things in my hands are completely foreign to me and I don't have any idea what to do with it. In my sleeping mind, I know what the things are. They are what I SHOULD be holding. But in my dream I am just lost. The over all feeling is Frustration. It's overwhelming. It grinds on like that for what seems like hours. When I wake up I am so tired. Oh yea....It's time to go to work for real too! Ugh!!

Well today I felt that frustration in my waking hours. I went to the golf course this afternoon feeling pretty fine! It's been a nice day weather wise and I was looking forward to a good Nine holes. Off the first tee I hit a pretty solid shot. My second shot felt just as nice. That, sadly was the end of the Rock'n'Roll Goodtimes. From then on, I could not even put the club on the ball. It was awful. I knew what to do. I had the tool to do it in my hands. No matter how hard i concentrated I could not make my body do what my mind had planned out. I lost three balls within the first two holes. They just vanished into the ether. I swear I couldnt have hit them more that twenty yards....watched them go....and when I got to where I THOUGHT it was.....GONE! GRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! 

God decided to bail me out though. Four holes in it started raining. The perfect excuse to call it a day. As I walked toward the club house, a little wet and ALOT upset, I began to gather my composure. I was passing the practice green when I decided to tempt fate. I hit about twenty balls into the tiny little green. Nineteen of those I hit VERY well. Solid, high, well struck. I have no idea what, if anything I was doing differently. Golf is such a mystery! My final shot landed about a foot from the flag. A nice finish to a rotten day.  

I have played poorly many times but never have I felt so frustrated. It was definitely my mindset. I may not be able to fix my swing but I can relax and enjoy myself. That is sort of the point of it after all. So that is now my lofty goal! Have more fun!!! Sounds easy enough.

Word Of The Day

After my rant about the use of the word Pimp, it occurred to me that I use the word "hooker" in a very loving way. I know.....how could that be a good word? 

Word of the day: hypocrisy

Straight Pimpin! ??

I finally decided to set myself up a myspace page. It seemed like a good way to stay in touch with friends and family. It has been just that. In fact I am in contact with a few cousins that I haven't talked to in years. Good stuff. In fact, one of said cousins messaged me recently, and she was unhappy with the boring look of my page. She said, "You need to pimp your page. Pimp it up man!".  This got me thinking. When did the word Pimp take on a positive meaning? 

I blame the man to your left. Don "Magic" Juan. He DOES make the Pimp life look like a good time. Like say, Halloween, or a Costume party. If that's what pimp means, sign me up. When I was a kid though, if someone called me a Pimp I don't think i would have been complimented. I was taught to respect women. Not sell them. Strike one for "pimpin".  I also had a healthy respect for the Law. (Or fear of jail) Strike two. When I think of "The Life" I see more Terrance Howard in Hustle and Flow, than the Magic Man. It's hard out there for a Pimp indeed.

I am surprised that a woman (as is my cousin) would use Pimp the way she did, since the Pimp Game is one that women are not even allowed to play. In fact they are the equipment. I just feel like words mean things. 

As, for my dull ass Myspace page, I have to admit, my Pimp hand is weak. I don't own a lime-aid colored suit. In my closet, you won't find a fuzzy hat, nor a cane that is hollowed out so that I can take a beverage supply on the go. No platform shoes. No bling. And my wheels stop spinning when my car does.  

Hopefully people will get past the dull LOOK of my page and enjoy what I hope is some sweet!! content. Actually I just send them here to the blog!  Here I am dull, but colorfully so.

Quick Hit.

Just saw that my cousin is taking her family to the Indianapolis Children's Museum. Not sure if I think that's just a strange concept, (a place for Old Children???) or if I should be a featured exhibit.

Americas Next Top Blog Post

Has everyone seen the tumult that resulted from the casting call to Americas Next Top Model? If not, check here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fjpwTWbAyQ 

When I first saw this I thought to myself, now there are some girls that didn't get enough attention growing up. Why else would they be there killing each other to become pseudo-famous? Well, after thinking about it, I got another bright idea. I could literally feel the heat from the light buld over my head. Old School incandescent. I don't cotton these new CFL's.  You see, this whole thing was surprising to me, because I was under the impression that  parents these days gave their kids ALL kinds of attention. Isn't that what Dr. Spock teaches? It occured to me that the problem wasn't lack of attention at all, but Too much!!!

A friend told me a while ago that he has to praise his daughter every time she has a bowel movement. As if it was the most amazing thing in the world. I overheard a co-worker of mine talking about her 1 year old baby. She was beaming with pride that her child was walking. Bragging even.  Umm...barring some unfortunate disability, don't we all learn to walk? What her baby did was I'm sure, exciting for her, but it wasn't special. Not even a little bit. 

No one sets out for their kids to be average though. There's a reason average means what it does. At one end of the scale are the truly special. If your kid can speak three languages and give you a reasonable opinion on current state of Mid-East affairs by the age of 8, then yeah...your kid is amazing. Your job is to teach some humility! If on the other hand, your kid falls at the other end of the spectrum, teach them to try hard, and to be the best they can. Most of US though, fall into the great Ocean of the Average. There's nothing wrong with it. It's the way it HAS to be.  

Just don't over praise your kids people! It's gonna make them feel a little entitled and a whole lot of crazy. I'm not saying to underwhelm your kids with love and support either. I know it's a fine line to walk, and it's one of the MANY reasons I don't want to have kids. Please just love your kids for who they are. Even if they are not a little wunderkind.  Average is the new Awesome!!!! 

Not of this matters much anyway. I see super smart people who fail miserably and am stunned by the success I see in  some others. Who really knows how it all works. I just want to get back to when a young girl was "discovered" by a "talent scout" at the mall. Who, of course, had sex with her. Viola! A New Model!! No cattle calls. No un-reality TV shows. No TYRA!!!!!!!

It was a simpler time.

Children Of The Corn (tortillas) or How I Beat the Meat.

As you know I have been a fan of the Jack in the Box Monster Taco. Sadly it was discontinued a few months ago. This week I found out that they offer a New and Improved taco combo. This one consists of....count em...3!! tacos. These are miniature versions of my old favorites. Baby tacos if you will. I ate them and they were pretty much what I expected. When I got home I decided to google JitB to see how many fewer calories I had just wolfed down. Well, surprise!! These 3 tiny tacos actually pack more calories than the Monster version I was eating before.


This got me thinking about my strange relationship with fast food in general, and more specifically meat. I am an admitted weirdo when it comes to meat consumption. I don't eat chicken. I don't eat pork. I don't eat beef, if it's say....a steak, or a roast. But for some reason i Love me some fast food cow parts. The only meat I eat is processed so that it can be served fast and hot! It's usually on a bun, but sometimes a tortilla. The more I thought about it, the more i was disgusted with my diet. SO......as of.....and my time line is off here....2 weeks ago I am now a vegetarian. YAY me! I can't swear that I have been eating any healthier, but I am sure that I am eating less. Eating at home makes portion control a lot easier. Plus I have mixed in a few green veggies instead of the french fries I was having before. Honestly, they are what I miss. I haven't even noticed the missing meat.


I can't say that this will last for ever, but I do feel like I have really made a change. I'm sure that as i grow older some wise scientist will find that meat is the secret to longevity. I always zig when I should Zag. I have never been one to do what's "right" or popular anyway. Just what feels true to me.


Wish me luck with my new meatless life. If you happen to know any cows, let them know that they have one less enemy to worry about!

Umm....Thank You. I Think.

Have you ever received a compliment that made you feel worse than if you had never heard it at all? Worse, not because of the message, but because of the messenger. I was riding my bicycle through the fine little Hamlet of Exeter this past week. It's a small town. When I cycle through the downtown area I usually ride in the middle of the road with the traffic. This keeps me visible and hopefully safe. Well, I was riding along when the car coming from the opposite direction came to a rolling stop next to me. The woman driver had an "I'm lost" look on her face. I assumed she was needing directions so I stopped to help. When we pulled next to each other there was an awkward pause while I waited to see what she wanted. It seems she was not lost, but just wanted to tell me that "Those are some sexy legs." Umm.....thanks??

Now I don't want to speak ill of this lady. But she was Old. I would guess that she was from between 5 and 20 years older than me. I have never been good judging age. Now, I'm not an ageist. I won't say that she was unattractive...(I don't want to be mean)...but she was for sure not my type. So I just said thanks and pedaled my way out of there.

I know she meant to be nice, but for some reason I feel like the attributes of the messenger reflect on me. Older....a few degrees short of hot....Is that me? If Hitler told you that you were a Hell of a Guy, how would you feel about that? I'm not saying this lady hates Jews or has her eyes set on world domination, but still.

As I rode on home I thought about compliments in general. Do we need them? I know I don't. I always feel like they are phony or have some mysterious  motivation. I know that sounds like I have low self esteem or something but I don't. I LOVE myself. I just wonder why anyone else would care one way or the other. Do most people need a ego boost from random compliments? They shouldn't. Self love should come from within. Who cares what other people think? In my perfect world everybody would be responsible for their own ego and Schmoozing would just be bad form. I know it would never work. Some guy trying to get laid would break that compact in no time at all. That's why Socialism won't work. Somebody will always try harder and screw things up for the rest of us. 

Or, maybe she was just coming on to me. Who knows. 

I do want to say though, that if you are reading this (and you are) than you have Amazing Taste and must be an Awesome Person.

Karma Redux

Today I saw a Sweet BMW. I like a nice German car. When I walked by it, I saw that the license plate frame said, "I am THAT Barbie, the bitch that has everything." Uggh! I hate those things. To make a pronouncement like that makes you look Petty. (Perhaps she should be taken to an empty field and beaten) Not to mention shallow, greedy, and possibly ugly. When I rounded the car, I saw that she had a Handi-capped Placard hanging from here rear view. Damn. The nice B'mer AND access to all the best parking. Maybe she does have everything. Great parking aside, I smiled at the fact that her rotten attitude had been enough to bring the Wrath Of Karma. Nice. 

As the day wore on, I thought more about it.  Something was bugging me. Now I am all for not letting a disability keep you down, but how could some one so afflicted have the audacity to claim that she's the bitch that has everything?  Is she an amazing woman who lives her life to the fullest even with a disability? Or, is she just trying to over compensate by having STUFF? I don't know if I love her or hate her.This is probably not politically correct, but I believe in treating everybody equally, so I have to say that I am at best, not a fan. (way too many commas there) What ever her motivation, the message on her license plate was just crude. 

So to the Bitch that has it all, I hoist a libation in your honor and say to you, I have everything! Everything I WANT that is. I hope that you have that some day too.

Tomorows Energy

I have been suffering mightily from allergies. They are making me so miserable. You know the usual stuffy head and itchy eyes. Lately though, they have left me with barely a scintilla of energy. I have taken many medications, and had varying degrees of success. Even with the daily pills, eye drops and nose sprays (not to mention a study IV drip of diet Coke) I am still miserable and exhausted. I might have found a solution for my energy crisis though.

 I was watching ESPN classic.  They were running some old school wrestling from the mid-eighties. My favorite announcer, Gorilla Monsoon, was calling the action. It was and Epic battle between Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka and Sargent Slaughter.  Snuka had landed a hard right hand to the chest area of the Sarge when I heard Gorilla scream "Oh My! Right in the SolarPlexus!" That got me to thinking. First, is that even a body part? It is. I looked it up. Second, How great would it be, if our bodies had a Solar Panel of some sort? I keep hearing that Solar is the energy of the future and I am ready! Bring it on. I'm tired of being tired. If we could some how harness the power of the Sun on an individual level it would solve a few  problems. 

1)Fatigue. The obvious energy level boost would be amazing.  (in the daylight at least)

2) Obesity. If we were energized by the Sun then no need for food. 

2b) World hunger. See #2

3)The Economy. With lots of energy and no time wasted eating, the GDP would skyrocket!

Of course, I'm sure skin cancer would be on the rise. There's a price to pay for everything I suppose. 

This is the future I'm hoping for. For now though I just wish I could kick these allergies. Maybe I will start wearing a mask, much like the Sweet retro grappler The Great Mysterio! Then I would challenge Allergies to a loser leaves town match!  If I lose....I will leave and go to a place where nothing grows. I suspect either way, I'm a winner.

Excuse Me, Do You Have The Time?

Who decided that we would let the government be in charge of something as important as TIME itself? The recent change to Daylight Savings Time has me massively tetchy! Anyone that has ever been to a DMV office, where time moves as slow as molasses, knows that the government has issues with the Time Concept itself. Every spring, this crazy Leap Forward gets me started thinking about the meaning of time. Time travel. Time Shifting. Life itself. It frazzles my brain quite honestly. The fact that we can all come to an agreement to just up and change the time makes me wonder if time even exists at all. The bigger issue is, this all really F's up my sleep! Jet lag without the benefit of travel. There's nothing like waking up, feeling out of sorts only to find you are  in your own bedroom. The shadows are falling in different spots, but there's no denying that you are where you were!  

The good news this will all pass in a few weeks and then I will be able to enjoy the great long summer afternoons. I do love that. Of course, come fall, we get to do this all over again. 

So to you, Mr. Head of the Presidents Special Sub committee on Time Shifting and F'ing with Chris' head......PLEASE stop. Now that the days are long.....leave well enough alone. Feel free to pass this on to your congressman/woman!!

CURSES!!! Spoiled again. And again.....

I have never much believed in curses. If you pressed me, I would probably say that I still don't. I have been wondering lately though, whether maybe....just maybe, I have been jinxed. Have ever heard the Chinese curse "May you live in interesting times" ? Well, The Times They Are A'Interesting. War. Stock market meltdown. The Sober House. It's a seriously F'd up world. Makes me long for the more pedestrian days of MUSIC on mtv and my pathetic three percent returns. (Seems there is always war) 

The thing is, I barely know any Chinese people. I'm pretty sure none of them would want to curse me either.  Come to think of it, that's a pretty messed up vexation. If you drop that bad boy on someone, it's most likely going to cause chaos for MANY people. It's hard to live "interesting" times on your own. It does lend itself to the possibility that I am merely caught up in some other poor souls curse. Damn. We are all trapped in it I suppose. Maybe that's how this whole crazy world works. It's said that everything is circular. What if, the truth is that some one was cursed, causing things to turn to crap? And then, when that person finally kicks the bucket everything mysteriously turns around.  I guess the moral of this here little ditty is to be careful who you wish damnation upon. Never underestimate the Butterfly effect. 

 Or, things ARE random. It's always possible that nothing we do really matters as much as we would like to believe. It's still bad form to curse people though! 

I do believe that things will get better. They always do. Hopefully I (and you) am not the cursed one that has to die to bring it all about though.

Time Out

I just discovered that my Dad has a Myspace profile. It's a crazy world. When I clicked on it there was a picture of Pops right there. He looked OLD! (sorry dad, if you're reading this) I should add that I haven't seen him in quite some time, as we live many states apart. It occurred to me that it's not Time that ages people, but separation. The thirty years that I lived near my Dad I can't say that I saw him age at all. My wife? I think maybe she's getting younger! When you see some one every day it's hard to notice the little signs that life is gaining on us. Slowly, but surely. It's mildly depressing. It did give me an idea though. Keep the people you care about near you. See them often. You will hardly notice as age begins to show on their faces. Added bonus, you won't look old to them. The corollary, see people you don't like as rarely as possible. Then you can make fun of how Worn out they look. I'm not sure that this is the actual cure for aging, but it does seem like pretty good life advice anyway.

Smashed Potatoes And Broken Dreams

Once I had a brilliant idea. ONCE! I have had many good ideas in my life. The number of bad ideas is innumerable. Most ideas I conjure up are just inconsequential. But once....once. I was sitting one day eating my favorite food. The potato. I don't remember if it was mashed, fried, boiled or baked. It didn't matter. I loved it. Seriously, my love of the spud is legendary if you know me, or if you live in Idaho. There they call me Job Security.  Anyway, I was enjoying a potato one day when I had my ONE brilliant idea. I want to open a restaurant that serves nothing but potato dishes. Imagine it!!! The number of amazing dishes that come to mind are too numerous to type. Use your imagination. SEE!!! There are so many right? It would be SO great. 

Well, I was listening to the radio the other day when I heard a commercial for "The Valleys only Potato bar." It's called The Hot Potato and it killed my dream.  I know that I can't be the only tuber lover around, but I thought I was the most clever. Guess not. Somebody beat me too it. Uggh! Story of my life.

I however always try to look on the bright side of things. I can now go to a Potato bar!!!! Holy crap! I can't wait.  I'm also trying to be more self aware and honest with myself. I have to admit I am a procrastinator. I am pretty sure that MY version of the Potato bar would never have seen the light of day. For a few reasons:

1) I am not a great cook.

2) Never tried, but probably not a great business man. 

3) I'm lazy. Yep I gotta admit to that one too. 

I am glad someone had the imagination and spunk to open this new place. I don't see how it could be bad. I mean....Potatoes! Hello??? So to the Great Human Being that brings me (and you) this fine establishment I say Hooray for you. The early bird gets the worm. Hmm...and I hope some Potato Pancakes.

Karma Are You Out There?

I have always been a quasi-believer in Karma. I find it comforting to think that if you do the right thing and treat people well, you will be rewarded. Better still, if you are rotten, you get yours in the end. A big Karmic SmackDown!! I hope that it works like that anyway. Otherwise what's the point of it all? 

A few days ago I bumped into a girl that I half-knew from way back in the nineties. I never liked her. Possibly the reason I only HALF knew her. She was never beautiful, but she SO thought she was. The chick had a bad vibe!  Now I have to admit that she WAS alright looking. No amount of good looks can justify a "I am so special" attitude though. I am embarrased to admit that when i saw her this week I was SO happy to see that she was a wreck! She had gained a few pounds. (who hasn't?) She also looked very wind-burned. Like she had driven through the desert with her head hanging out of the car window. I loved it. I know Karma would not appreciate that kind of thinking but I can't deny how I felt. 

Luckily, Karma made sure to let me down today. So I won't worry about the bad JooJoo I should get from enjoying the trouble of others. I happened upon ANOTHER girl I knew from around that same period of my life. You know, mid AIDS....pre meth. Around the time I stopped listening to Kriss Kross and started enjoying music by people who played instuments. Anyway, this girl was always very nice to me. Quick with a smile and good for a laugh. A real Peach!  Sadly, she was MORE than a wreck. All of the positive energy she gave off back in the day could not save her from her fate. She was using a walker. She looked ill and I think she might have grown a hump on her back. Damn you Karma!!  Why have you let me down? 

My real worry is that Karma doesnt exist at all. I realise as I write this that I am really talking about God. And one of the great unanswerable questions. Why do bad things happen to good people? It's always been a bit of a bugaboo for me. I want to believe but that one simple question as always made it difficult. 

I am hoping that Karma is just a better judge of people than me. It's quite possible that Girl #1 Got exactly what she deserved. And girl #2?? Maybe she was violating small animals with a chocolate Zinger when nobody was looking.  That would make the hump seem justified. I really do want to hold on to Karma! If it's as real as I hope, I think I will be sleeping on my back tonight, because Karma may not owe me a SMackDown, but a violation with a RingDing might be warranted.

First day Jitters

Today I had to return to work after a twenty day vacation. I was not as unhappy to return as you might think. I know twenty days is a long time and as they say all good things must end. Things took a strange turn though, as I rolled out of bed this morning. I had butterflies. I'm not talking about the cheek for cheek sweat stain I sometimes find on my sheet. I was nervous. Remember your first day back to school after fifth grade summer break? Even though you had been going to the same school with the same kids for six years (more than half your life at that point), you would still get those first day jitters. Tight stomach. Over-active bladder. Maybe some palm sweat. Well, that's how I felt this morning. It made sense back in grade school. New teachers. SOME new students. For me today though, it was a surprise. I'm not sure what I expected. Would my friend Kevin show up with twenty pounds of new muscle like Joe Sanchez did junior year?I still suspect the ROIDS! Would that one girl that works at the other end of the building show up dressed in black, pining over the Cure, like Sammie ( "It's Samantha Now") Walters did at that the beginning of eighth grade? Unlikely. Would someone suddenly be beautiful? Would we all wonder why we never noticed before?


Now, like then, I needn't have been worried. Nothing has changed. Or DID change. Everyone is pretty much the same. ( Although one mans wife did die ) The people I didn't care much for were eager to remind me why I felt that way. My friends were still my friends. Everyone was glad to see that I was back. I don't remember that ever happening in school.

All in all it wasn't a bad day. Plus it's only eight months until my next mini-holiday.

The Tao Of Vagrancy

Last night (if it was last night, jet lag has stolen my sense of time and space) my wife and I flew into Los Angeles where we were making a little stop over on our way home. Through some freak scheduling accident we had an 8 hour layover. We landed in LA just around twelve AM. If you have been to LA then you know that it is a huge city. A populated city. It's ALIVE!!! Unless you happen to be at LAX after midnight. It was like a scene from I Am Legend. Steel doors were rolled down to cover the the entrance to every shop. Restaurant windows revealed chair leg gardens in full bloom.  I have always found inverted chairs stacked on tabletops beautiful. I don't know why. So Leslie and I were left to wander the empty corridors of the airport. We could have taken a seat. Any seat! The choice was ours. Instead we shuffled around for a while but soon fell victim to exaustion. With the entire building to ourselves it seemed that the world was our mattress. But those damn uncomfortable chairs were our proverbial pea. Sleep would not come. Leslie, being quite crafty, had stolen two blankets from the airplane. Take THAT American Airlines!! In true "Shelter Challenged" fashion she unfurreled her bankets and made herself a bed on the floor. All covered up, she looked as warm and snugly as if she were at home on the Beautyrest! I couldn't do it. 

   I have never been jealous of the homeless before. Never really given them much thought at all to be honest with you. But as I sat there for hours, shifting positions every couple of minutes trying to find some semblance of comfort, I began to meditate on the amazing skill set of indegents. I have seen them sleep in the most uncomfortable places. Cement sidewalk. Bus stop bench. Grassy knowls. I have seen them sleep in the daytime. On noisy streets. In the heat. In the cold. I don't mean to make fun of them. It's not them....it's ME! It's how spoiled and pathetic I am. It's the fact that i could not get the tinyest bit of rest in a climate controlled building full of serviceable (if hard) faux leather chairs.  

  I have been reading a book about harnessing the power of the very moment that you are in. Forgetting about the past. Not worrying about the future. It's some sort of Eastern Zen thing. Looking back though (which the zen master says I'm not supposed to do. Oops.) I can kind of see how it was a long stretch of too much comfort and my deep desire for more in the future that was making me miserable. It was all i thought about. I didn't take time to observe the world around me. To really take it in. To walk. To breath. To appreciate that I was inside while it was raining outside. To be happy that Leslie was getting at least a little rest. This is all easy to see as I sit in my warm comfy bed. I guess seeing those things in the moment are the true Toa. There's something to that I think, but I still enjoy a little reflection now and then too. Now though, what I really need is some sleeep!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is there still a fun and interesting way to make fun of smokers? That's what I have been trying to figure out for a few weeks now. Everyday I visit a business that, for all intents and purposes is a giant ashtray. It smells AWFUL! Well just when I thought I had an interesting angle, this guy up and died on me. Seems he was smoking six packs of smokes a day and chewing nicotine gum in between to maintain that just brushed feeling. He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. I really can't understand why people continue to do things that are so clearly bad for them. I suppose I am the pot calling the kettle black just a bit. My diet is not the healthiest, but I am choosing between brussel sprouts and cheeseburgers, not regulars and menthols. I do hate feeling like a hypocrite though, so maybe this will inspire me to make a few wiser choices at dinner time. I hope THAT'S not the only good thing to come from this mans untimely demise.

Doctor Strange Tounge: Or, How I learned to stop worrying and love the scrotum.

Over my life, my tongue has grieved me many times. I remember all those times that my tongue just would not function. Usually there were girls involved. Sometimes job interviewers. Then there were the times that my tongue worked too well. It said things that I thought I was only thinking inside my head. In hindsight  the latter has provided some pretty good memories. My tongue DOES have some wit. Once or twice my tongue decided to park itslef right between my teeth  mid bite. A few years ago half of my tongue went completely numb. I probably shouldn't single my tongue out on that one as the rest of my face had gone frigid too.

Worst of all, my tongue is gross. Deformed. It could easily be mistaken for a map of all the fault lines here in earthquake prone California. It's CRACKED!! It's a soft pink Rorschach test. It's been that way forever. One more reason I should keep my mouth shut. Though I rarely do. 

Yesterday I was at the dentist and he, pointing out the obvious, asked if I knew about the cracks in my tongue. I said I did. 

   "Do you know why?" he asked. I didn't, but suspected that I would soon find out. Great!! I've always been curious as to why it's that way.

   "I don't know either." he told me. "I do see it now and then though."

  Damn. Still a mystery. I decided to google the subject as soon as I got home. Let me just tell you that I am in no danger. What I have (it's a full blown syndrome apparently) is not at all harmful. Except maybe, to ones ego. For it seems that I am afflicted with Scrotal Tongue!!! It's fantastic. I'm SO ok with it. I want to run around town with my fissured tongue hanging from my mouth screaming "Wanna see a scrotal tongue?? Five dollars please!" I'm a freak show. I will probably never get rich from this, but I am certain that my tongue will have some great stories to tell! 

Walk Hard: A Sweaty Sox Story

Today I discovered something very exciting about Visalia. It seems that a group of middle aged women gather every morning in our local mall and race a Mall Walker Criterium. I was standing in line at the food court the first time I saw the group go by. I noticed they were in a hurry, but assumed there must be a sale on whatever it is that women find SO exciting in a shopping mall. I grabbed my food and started to head out of the building when i saw them coming at me again. Were they going a little bit faster? This was a race!! I decided to grab myself a seat and watch. As anyone who has ever seen a race knows, the action is in the corners. So staked myself a position between Hot Dog On A Stick and Footlocker. If anyone was going to crash....or throw a shoe this would be the place. The tightest corner in the mall. At lap three I started keeping track of the position of some of the athletes. At lap four I realized that none of the positions had changed. They just rounded the mall, none strong enough to overtake the others. In the straight-away approach of lap five I noticed that the two women who had been leading during the entire race were really starting to smack talk each other. I couldn't hear what was said, and their expressions seemed friendly, but I am sure that they were really trying to get into each others heads. LAP 6! LAP 7! These ladies were bringing it. I realized my lunch hour might not see me through to the end of the race. I had to make a call. At lap 9 I let them know that this was the bell lap. One to go! They were so focused that they hardly seemed to notice. I did see a look of  OLD SCHOOL FURY in the face of the woman in the third position. I had high hopes that she was a sprinter and just waiting to pounce.  Minutes later, the entire group rounded the turn again. Old School Fury had acctualy lost ground. She must have blown up somewhere around Gymboree. The two wire to wire leaders finished in an almost dead heat. Unable to declare a winner I tried to high five them both, but as any good pro walker would, they kept right on moving. They needed a cool down lap. Being a walker myself, I gave them their space. It must be tough with all the walker groupies bothering them anyway. Before they finished their victory lap my lunch hour had ended. Lunch AND a show today. And all for $6.42! What a bargain. 

What's Your Sign?

Every day I drive by a middle school. At the edge of the property stands a thirty foot tall sign. It's an old marquee style sign that boasts the schools name. Divisadero Middle. Home of the Trojans. I love this sign. Whenever I pass it I take a peek at it, just to see the Happenings of the school. It really takes me back. The school dances that i never attended. The upcoming Holidays that I couldn't wait for. Each spring, the best of all: See you next year!

Sometimes I see students standing beneath the sign with a giant pole, rearranging and removing letters, letting the other kids know that they are IN THE KNOW. They are the keepers of the information until the sign is finished and reveals to the world when the next Sadie Hawkins dance will be. That would have been a great job. Sometimes there are misspellings or upside-down letters. I wonder how that happens. No proof reader? I like to believe that some little social deviant did it on purpose.  A big F-YOU to the man!!!

Today I drove by and the sign was gone. It's been replaced by a brand new digital sign. Programable. Probably has spell check. It's awful. It's completely impersonal. Today it only said that it was currently 3:15 PM. Except that it was 2:35 PM. Awesome. I'm sure that this sign will do so much more than the old one, but it will never do it as well. With any luck, maybe...just MAYBE, the perfect allignment of bulbs will burn out and we might still get a big F YOU up there once again. That would be a message I could get behind.

Snow: Perfectly Rated

I live in an area where the snow very rarely comes to me. So occasionally I have to bring the mountain to Mohamad. This can be exceedingly difficult. On my most recent hunt for the Great White, problems where everywhere. My neice was visiting from another mostly snowless area so my wife and I decided that a snowday would be a good time. We loaded up the Element with sleds and warm clothes. Off we went. Long before we saw even one snowflake, we saw signs. CHAINS REQUIRED AHEAD. Damn. I don't own snow chains. Luckily, at the base of the mountain  there was a Price Gouging Thief renting snow chains to poor suckers like me. Parked everywhere, were  dozens of cars with disembodied legs sticking out from under them. Newbies like me learning to use tire chains. There is no acctual CHAIN involved I found out. The things looked more like they were made by an industrial strength jewelry maker like I might have had when I was nine, were I a girl. "Look mommy I made you a metal....monochrome...belt?" Thats what they looked like to me. I paid the thief and headed off to the mountain, chains in tow. When it finally became apparent that there WOULD be snow on this here trip, I climbed out in the FREEZING cold to put my new found chain installing skills to the test. First tire....Check. Second tire....damn. The "chain" was missing a buckle that held the whole contraption together. Surprising my wife (and myself) I MacGyvered it and we were once again on our way. It was slow go. This is when i started thinking "snow is SO overrated." We drove for about an hour and finally reached the snowplay area. It was COLD!! It was also so beautiful. Amazing really. Devon and I climbed up the hill dragging our sleds behind us. I'm not shy! I couldn't wait to ride that snowy hill. It was Great! So fun. If what your mom said about your face freezing that way was true, this would have been ok with me. I was smiling! Wouldn't mind looking like that for a long time. Devon took some encouraging, but she slid down the hill as well. More smiles. This was a GRAND time. It really was. Just a half hour earlier I was sure that snow was over rated. I realized then, that it wasn't. It was Perfectly Rated. It was the exact amount of fun that would motivate me to go through all the trouble that was the trip there. Ten percent less fun and I might not ever do it again. But it was perfect. Memorable. I would do it all again.....just not too soon. 

Death of a Taco

        I was greeted this morning at my local Jack In The Box by the counter girl I see there on a regular basis.

         "I was just thinking about you" she said. "Seems that our Monster Taco is being deleted from our menu. You are the first person I thought of."

         This was problematic in more than a couple of ways. First, I am apparently known for my gluttony. Sure I could order a taco that is more size appropriate to feed a person, but I don't. I want BIG. I go Large! Not something to  be known for. Second, I am SO boring. I order those damn Monster Tacos every visit. I'm certain that I am known as the Monster Taco guy. Or perhaps Monster Taco Dude, which is a monicker i wouldn't self apply, but does have a certain ring to it. Third, the Taco was being "deleted" Not discontinued. Not removed. Has the whole world gone digital? I hold those tacos in my hand. Well, two hands, they are Monster after all. They are real physical things. They can't be deleted. I can make then dissappear, bite by delicious bite. They are never gone though. I feel them with me for hours some times. I am preparing to spearhead two campaigns. One: Save the Monster Taco!!!!! Second: Digitize food. Oh my GOD how great would it be to log on and just download yourself a nice #1 combo with extra sauce? I really feel trapped. I am an analog person living in a digital world. I don't know which side i will finally chose, Virtual Reality, or Real Reality, but i bet that my computer would never recognize me as "The Monster Taco Guy"

Music heals the soul

 I woke up this morning  to my blaring clock radio. Even though it was 6 AM i was pretty damn sure, this music BLOWS! I'm not sure when it happened, but I hate music! Not all music mind you, Just music made since....ohh...1999. Someone asked me a while back who my favorite band is. "Nirvana" I answered. A good answer. Solid. But I realized that, for obvious reasons , Nirvana hasn't made a SOUND in 15 years. I hate to sound like a  mosh pitting, flannel wearing GrandPa here, but the music today is awful!  I don't set out to hate it. In fact I want it to be good. I want it to move me. Sadly, it just doesn't. Sure there have been a few songs in the last decade and a half that I have enjoyed. And many more that I just "didn't hate."  Nothing has grabbed me though. Nothing has made me feel like flinging myself into another person. I miss that. Are the musicians today just not angry? Or is it me? Am I so comfortable that I can't suffer along with the angst ridden whippersnapper wailing from my speakers? I think it is me. I am now resolved to be miserable. To suffer. It won't be easy. The rewards, I hope, will be great though. I will be able to listen to a new song again and feel the singers pain, because, i know he feels mine. This of course will make me feel better. Sweet Irony! If I start feeling to happy there is always some Jonas Brothers or Miley Montanna not far away that I'm sure will bring me right back to a nice comfortable state of Irkyness. I'm off to iTunes. Pray for my misery. No too hard though. I could end up in a death metal spiral.