Last week's 30 Rock,
How many people knew that the first time Liz sang the lullaby that it was 99 Luftballoons? I knew you did, but for those that didn't -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oquWTJ0bo6U&feature=related
"What about Jack-onathan?"
ck
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
02-27/And Let Me Tell You Why
There are plenty of reasons why I don't like going to the doctor. But I guess, who doesn't. I think it all went way back to my pediatrician. She was of Indian descent and since most of our town went to her, she was familiar with everyone.
I remember weakly, when I was a wee lad, bringing my sister to her as a baby. She knew everyone.
I used to go to her for a sore throat, chest cold, fever - all things that children go to the doctor for, and things that all involve the waist up. After a while though, after checking my throat, she used to start taking liberties to check other things.
My mom, dad, or both, usually along with my sister, would accompany these trips into the exam room itself, so it started getting even more uncomfortable. Basically, she started checking on my, "development."
I started to explain to my parents that I was getting uncomfortable with this, and I believe as I got older it just became a running joke. However, it started to make me panic about going to see her.
She was a cool lady, one of those abrasive people who could talk to you that way because she knew you since you were a baby. I think once my parents made a mention of it to her, even in a joking way, she explained to me that she was checking on my progress.
???
Then she showed me a horrible "chart" of what they are supposed to look like as the years progressed. The worst part is that it was real people and photos.
I started going to a new doctor as an adult and he was also of Indian descent with a fantastic accent as well. He is my grandparents, and parents doctor, so he knew of who I was. He used to always tell me that my blood pressure was high, and that I needed to stop eating cold cuts. At least four or five visits, he would always say,
"Nooooh Kld KUTS!!!"
Ok, I got it.
"And Don't use a Q Tip!!"
Ok.
"and No Kld KUTs!"
Right, well I've lost thirty pound--
"KLD KUTS NOOOO!!!"
Yes, but I don't really eat them that---
"No!"
After I left, I went back home to my salami farm, where I planted new salami seeds. I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked out at the acres of salami that I was growing.
From under my sunhat my eyes closed gently and I rose my head to the setting twilight sun. With my mouth opened wide, I imagined myself dancing carefree in the middle of a storm raining bologna, ham, and salami.
"Never," I whispered softly.
ck
I remember weakly, when I was a wee lad, bringing my sister to her as a baby. She knew everyone.
I used to go to her for a sore throat, chest cold, fever - all things that children go to the doctor for, and things that all involve the waist up. After a while though, after checking my throat, she used to start taking liberties to check other things.
My mom, dad, or both, usually along with my sister, would accompany these trips into the exam room itself, so it started getting even more uncomfortable. Basically, she started checking on my, "development."
I started to explain to my parents that I was getting uncomfortable with this, and I believe as I got older it just became a running joke. However, it started to make me panic about going to see her.
She was a cool lady, one of those abrasive people who could talk to you that way because she knew you since you were a baby. I think once my parents made a mention of it to her, even in a joking way, she explained to me that she was checking on my progress.
???
Then she showed me a horrible "chart" of what they are supposed to look like as the years progressed. The worst part is that it was real people and photos.
I started going to a new doctor as an adult and he was also of Indian descent with a fantastic accent as well. He is my grandparents, and parents doctor, so he knew of who I was. He used to always tell me that my blood pressure was high, and that I needed to stop eating cold cuts. At least four or five visits, he would always say,
"Nooooh Kld KUTS!!!"
Ok, I got it.
"And Don't use a Q Tip!!"
Ok.
"and No Kld KUTs!"
Right, well I've lost thirty pound--
"KLD KUTS NOOOO!!!"
Yes, but I don't really eat them that---
"No!"
After I left, I went back home to my salami farm, where I planted new salami seeds. I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked out at the acres of salami that I was growing.
From under my sunhat my eyes closed gently and I rose my head to the setting twilight sun. With my mouth opened wide, I imagined myself dancing carefree in the middle of a storm raining bologna, ham, and salami.
"Never," I whispered softly.
ck
Thursday, February 26, 2009
02-26/A Sack Full of Pride
From wikipedia:
Enzyte is an herbal nutritional supplement originally manufactured by Berkeley Premium Nutraceuticals of Cincinnati, Ohio. The manufacturer has claimed Enzyte promotes "natural male enhancement", which is suggestive of a euphemism for penile enlargement. However, its effectiveness has been called into doubt and the claims of the manufacturer have been under scrutiny from various state and federal organizations. Because of their claims and business practices, the company's founder and CEO, Steve Warshak, and his mother, Harriett Warshak, were found guilty of conspiracy to commit mail fraud, bank fraud, and money laundering, were sentenced to prison in September 2008, and ordered to forfeit $500 million in assets.[1] The conviction threw the company into bankruptcy. In December 2008 the assets were acquired from bankruptcy court for $2.75 million by Pristine Bay, a Cincinnati developer Chuck Kubicki who said he wanted to keep the company's 200 employees in one of his property buildings in suburban Cincinnati at Forest Park, Ohio. Kubiciki said he would change the company name but would keep the brand.[2] Enzyte is widely advertised on US television as "the once daily tablet for natural male enhancement". The commercials feature a character known as "Smilin' Bob", who always wears a smile that is implied to be caused by the enhancing effects of Enzyte; these advertisements feature double entendres. The purported benefits of this compound are dubious, unproven and untested.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7vOPPXkqm4
Watch this first - Little known fact, I have a crush on the short black haired girl.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I still don't understand what this product does. Does it make it bigger in general? Or bigger- like an erection bigger? Either way these ads are hilarious, and now thanks to wikipedia, I got the history on it. Sounds like fraud to me.
They are still running the Christmas ads, like the one in the link above, using these "double entendres" like a "Sleigh full of confidence, a Sack full of pride."
I guess now that Easter is coming they should change the ads. Here are some suggestions.
"A rabbit with more hop, Eggs with more yoke"
"Don't forget these chicks like to cluck"
"Something else is rising on the third day"
"Have your own Easter egg hunt"
"Have a bigger ^%$& for Easter"
Summertime is coming too.
"A bigger beach umbrella, a greater area of shade"
"More meat on the grill, a satisfactory meal after its cooked"
"Not just a sparkler, but an a Roman candle"
"A fireworks show outside, and also in your pants"
"A longer vacation, a bigger deal on airfare"
Topical :
"Turn around the deficit, create bigger spending"
"Stimulate the economy, create more money (shots) "
"Stock market rising, ring the closing bell"
"Put a goose in the engine, land her on the water"
I wonder if the actor that plays "Smilin' Bob" gets recognized on the street. I'm sure he has to take a lot of crap from people. Contrary to what he thought the fame would do for him, he lives alone in an apartment complex.
He gets home, bills, bills, bills, listens to his messages.
Beeeeeep " Bob, this is your mother. I love the new penis enlargement commercial. You look so handsome. Did you meet any nice girls while filming this penis commercial? By the way, dad says your golf swing is awful in the other commercial. Call us back. (Father says in background: My son advertises for a penis pill, I'm a laughing stock at the Lodge-)
Beeeeeep " Hi, this is Joanne, I met you at the clinic earlier today. I just wanted to say I realized who you are, and I think its creepy. So please don't call me."
Beeeeeep " Hi this is Sharon, your agent. I just got off the phone with Preparation H ----" He deletes this one before it ends.
He cracks open a beer, sits on the couch and then the neighbors start yelling loud enough that he can hear it through the wall.
ck
Enzyte is an herbal nutritional supplement originally manufactured by Berkeley Premium Nutraceuticals of Cincinnati, Ohio. The manufacturer has claimed Enzyte promotes "natural male enhancement", which is suggestive of a euphemism for penile enlargement. However, its effectiveness has been called into doubt and the claims of the manufacturer have been under scrutiny from various state and federal organizations. Because of their claims and business practices, the company's founder and CEO, Steve Warshak, and his mother, Harriett Warshak, were found guilty of conspiracy to commit mail fraud, bank fraud, and money laundering, were sentenced to prison in September 2008, and ordered to forfeit $500 million in assets.[1] The conviction threw the company into bankruptcy. In December 2008 the assets were acquired from bankruptcy court for $2.75 million by Pristine Bay, a Cincinnati developer Chuck Kubicki who said he wanted to keep the company's 200 employees in one of his property buildings in suburban Cincinnati at Forest Park, Ohio. Kubiciki said he would change the company name but would keep the brand.[2] Enzyte is widely advertised on US television as "the once daily tablet for natural male enhancement". The commercials feature a character known as "Smilin' Bob", who always wears a smile that is implied to be caused by the enhancing effects of Enzyte; these advertisements feature double entendres. The purported benefits of this compound are dubious, unproven and untested.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7vOPPXkqm4
Watch this first - Little known fact, I have a crush on the short black haired girl.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I still don't understand what this product does. Does it make it bigger in general? Or bigger- like an erection bigger? Either way these ads are hilarious, and now thanks to wikipedia, I got the history on it. Sounds like fraud to me.
They are still running the Christmas ads, like the one in the link above, using these "double entendres" like a "Sleigh full of confidence, a Sack full of pride."
I guess now that Easter is coming they should change the ads. Here are some suggestions.
"A rabbit with more hop, Eggs with more yoke"
"Don't forget these chicks like to cluck"
"Something else is rising on the third day"
"Have your own Easter egg hunt"
"Have a bigger ^%$& for Easter"
Summertime is coming too.
"A bigger beach umbrella, a greater area of shade"
"More meat on the grill, a satisfactory meal after its cooked"
"Not just a sparkler, but an a Roman candle"
"A fireworks show outside, and also in your pants"
"A longer vacation, a bigger deal on airfare"
Topical :
"Turn around the deficit, create bigger spending"
"Stimulate the economy, create more money (shots) "
"Stock market rising, ring the closing bell"
"Put a goose in the engine, land her on the water"
I wonder if the actor that plays "Smilin' Bob" gets recognized on the street. I'm sure he has to take a lot of crap from people. Contrary to what he thought the fame would do for him, he lives alone in an apartment complex.
He gets home, bills, bills, bills, listens to his messages.
Beeeeeep " Bob, this is your mother. I love the new penis enlargement commercial. You look so handsome. Did you meet any nice girls while filming this penis commercial? By the way, dad says your golf swing is awful in the other commercial. Call us back. (Father says in background: My son advertises for a penis pill, I'm a laughing stock at the Lodge-)
Beeeeeep " Hi, this is Joanne, I met you at the clinic earlier today. I just wanted to say I realized who you are, and I think its creepy. So please don't call me."
Beeeeeep " Hi this is Sharon, your agent. I just got off the phone with Preparation H ----" He deletes this one before it ends.
He cracks open a beer, sits on the couch and then the neighbors start yelling loud enough that he can hear it through the wall.
ck
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
02-24/No Sauce Needed
As we sat in the lobby of the Dix Hills Skating rink, I fumbled through my hockey bag looking for nothing. My roommate, and captain of the New York Center Ice Hockey team, was familiar with most of the guys, and I only knew him. Having not played in over 2 years, and only dabbling as an ice hockey goalie for the experience, I was much more used to the hard contact of wheels on the bottom of my skates.
I started the slow process of affixing the equipment to my body; the motions and procedures the same as preparing for a roller game. I had bought the goalie ice skates from a guy outside of "Play it Again Sports" about 5 years ago. Goalie skates, being lower and longer than regular skates, were made differently, and were more expensive typically. I had perused "Play it Again" looking for a cheap pair, however my size 13 ham hocks, make it a difficult find.
Luckily I met this guy outside of the shop for the purchase, after he declined Play it Again's offer to buy them from him for about 2 dollars. I gave him 30 for some reason.
The semi-rusted blades became a challenge for my grandfather and I to fix, but of course we made the blades look presentable, and I was able to find an edge to make them sharp.
As I reminisced of the days I bought them, I laced them up tightly. Looking down, the laces looked disheveled and not very symmetrical. Probably the most important part of my equipment that necessitated comfort, I let it go and continued my step-by-step process of dressing. This was my first game as a regular season goalie for an ice hockey team.
My roommate helped me put my jersey on over my chest protector, and I rested the helmet atop my head. This would be the best I looked all night.
As I stepped onto the ice, I realized immediately that the rushing had caused my skates to feel a little loose. Also, I barely moved - the skates were not as sharp as I had preferred. After throwing a little coal on the fire, the body started to work in unison and I steamed into port in front of the net.
A Zamboni's primary responsibility is to fill in the cracks of the ice created by sharp skates, resulting in a uniformly smooth ice surface. In order to rough up the ice in front of the net, a goalie will make lateral skating motions to cut up the ice with his skates. Professionals usually make about a dozen of these movements in 2 rows.
As I cruised in to the net area, I slowed to a snails pace so as to not fall into the net. I started the motions to cut up the ice, so that I wouldn't be sliding all over the place, and I made it through 4 of the about 24 required motions. Realizing this was not working, I gave a myself a feigned nod of approval, and skated off trying to eminate confidence in the shit job I just performed.
I took about 3 warm up shots and then skated away into the corner to stretch, not because I just realized what I got myself into. A certain lack of confidence was brewing and I started getting worried. I saw my roommate hit a rough patch of ice, and stumble slightly, but it was nothing of special note.
"Nice job, Zach," I yelled out.
I suppose I was trying to establish my worth and self-appointment of someone who matters on this team. I yelled this out with the intent to show that I was good friends with Zach, and that we "josh" each other often, and give each other noogies and wedgies.
Hopefully this would further establish my association with the captain of the team and I would have artificial prominence, and my so far sub par performance would be voided.
The shout only lasted about 2 seconds, but as I started mouthing the word "Zach," I realized no one was paying attention or had an idea of what I was doing. So I just looked like a large moron, making weird stretches, yelling some nonsense into the echoes of the ice rink. Realizing all this, I felt that my once great plan had now gone sour, and the confidence of the statement turned into some weird audio resembling barking or a car alarm. Nice.
I shuffled back into the crease to face some more shots. A pretty routine slap shot came my way, and I fell to my knees, and extended the portion of my legs from the knee down out, known as the butterfly. I had done this hundreds of times before as a roller hockey goalie, and a sufficient amount of times in the few games I played as an Ice Hockey goalie.
The puck trailed low and to the right, prompting me to decide on the butterfly, but as I went down I felt something strange.
We all know I've been defying the laws of physics by playing sports my whole life. The amount of weight I've stressed on my knees was nothing new. I've stretched, I've contorted, I've fallen and stepped oddly.
Flashback : Probably about 8 years old, I had a little league game in College Point, NY. I was relegated to the outfield, and usually watched the game by putting the mitt over my face and following the game through the holes in it like watching TV. My mother once made dinner prior to the game, and I suppose we were running late, so she wrapped up raviolis in tin foil, and I ate them later on at the game on the bench. No sauce.
Either way, I descended to the butterfly save, putting emphasis on the right leg, since the puck was headed that way. In just the perfect configuration, my right knee popped three times, and I felt a wash of warmth over the whole joint.
I continued to play, I guess working on adrenaline. I knew something was wrong but it didn't hurt, yet.
The first shot of the game was slow and fluttered at me like a bird, making it an easy glove save. It should have been as easy as the million times I caught a baseball thrown back to me. This one however, started at the glove side, giving me the impression of the easiness of the save, but by five feet away it has crossed my body to the right side. I already positioned myself to catch the slow moving puck with the glove on my left hand, but while momentarily stunned by the unexpected change of course, I awkwardly reached across my body with the glove.
I had just looked like a 2 year old, barely able to walk, being thrown a nerf football. Just like the little tike, I had that goofy, mouth open, no cares in the world, smile on my face, also shitting my pants - clapping my hands together in an attempt to catch the ball, all I got was air.
The puck hit the back of the net as softly as it had floated at me and passed me.
My other goal of note, was originally a save. It was in my glove, but I remember it feeling like a fish out of water, flopping inside the mitt. I snatched my arm up in an effort to silence the flopping, but some how it left my glove and flew into the net.
If you watched it on TV, picture me catching the puck, turning around, taking the puck out of the glove, then punting it into the net like I was kicking a field goal.
The knee still hurts, and I'm terrified to go to the doctor. It would be the smart thing to do, but my friend at work is going to give me acupuncture. He also said to rub olive oil on the skin, then use a comb over it. This should extrapolate old blood and crap that's sitting next to the joint.
What's a comb?
ck
I started the slow process of affixing the equipment to my body; the motions and procedures the same as preparing for a roller game. I had bought the goalie ice skates from a guy outside of "Play it Again Sports" about 5 years ago. Goalie skates, being lower and longer than regular skates, were made differently, and were more expensive typically. I had perused "Play it Again" looking for a cheap pair, however my size 13 ham hocks, make it a difficult find.
Luckily I met this guy outside of the shop for the purchase, after he declined Play it Again's offer to buy them from him for about 2 dollars. I gave him 30 for some reason.
The semi-rusted blades became a challenge for my grandfather and I to fix, but of course we made the blades look presentable, and I was able to find an edge to make them sharp.
As I reminisced of the days I bought them, I laced them up tightly. Looking down, the laces looked disheveled and not very symmetrical. Probably the most important part of my equipment that necessitated comfort, I let it go and continued my step-by-step process of dressing. This was my first game as a regular season goalie for an ice hockey team.
My roommate helped me put my jersey on over my chest protector, and I rested the helmet atop my head. This would be the best I looked all night.
As I stepped onto the ice, I realized immediately that the rushing had caused my skates to feel a little loose. Also, I barely moved - the skates were not as sharp as I had preferred. After throwing a little coal on the fire, the body started to work in unison and I steamed into port in front of the net.
A Zamboni's primary responsibility is to fill in the cracks of the ice created by sharp skates, resulting in a uniformly smooth ice surface. In order to rough up the ice in front of the net, a goalie will make lateral skating motions to cut up the ice with his skates. Professionals usually make about a dozen of these movements in 2 rows.
As I cruised in to the net area, I slowed to a snails pace so as to not fall into the net. I started the motions to cut up the ice, so that I wouldn't be sliding all over the place, and I made it through 4 of the about 24 required motions. Realizing this was not working, I gave a myself a feigned nod of approval, and skated off trying to eminate confidence in the shit job I just performed.
I took about 3 warm up shots and then skated away into the corner to stretch, not because I just realized what I got myself into. A certain lack of confidence was brewing and I started getting worried. I saw my roommate hit a rough patch of ice, and stumble slightly, but it was nothing of special note.
"Nice job, Zach," I yelled out.
I suppose I was trying to establish my worth and self-appointment of someone who matters on this team. I yelled this out with the intent to show that I was good friends with Zach, and that we "josh" each other often, and give each other noogies and wedgies.
Hopefully this would further establish my association with the captain of the team and I would have artificial prominence, and my so far sub par performance would be voided.
The shout only lasted about 2 seconds, but as I started mouthing the word "Zach," I realized no one was paying attention or had an idea of what I was doing. So I just looked like a large moron, making weird stretches, yelling some nonsense into the echoes of the ice rink. Realizing all this, I felt that my once great plan had now gone sour, and the confidence of the statement turned into some weird audio resembling barking or a car alarm. Nice.
I shuffled back into the crease to face some more shots. A pretty routine slap shot came my way, and I fell to my knees, and extended the portion of my legs from the knee down out, known as the butterfly. I had done this hundreds of times before as a roller hockey goalie, and a sufficient amount of times in the few games I played as an Ice Hockey goalie.
The puck trailed low and to the right, prompting me to decide on the butterfly, but as I went down I felt something strange.
We all know I've been defying the laws of physics by playing sports my whole life. The amount of weight I've stressed on my knees was nothing new. I've stretched, I've contorted, I've fallen and stepped oddly.
Flashback : Probably about 8 years old, I had a little league game in College Point, NY. I was relegated to the outfield, and usually watched the game by putting the mitt over my face and following the game through the holes in it like watching TV. My mother once made dinner prior to the game, and I suppose we were running late, so she wrapped up raviolis in tin foil, and I ate them later on at the game on the bench. No sauce.
Either way, I descended to the butterfly save, putting emphasis on the right leg, since the puck was headed that way. In just the perfect configuration, my right knee popped three times, and I felt a wash of warmth over the whole joint.
I continued to play, I guess working on adrenaline. I knew something was wrong but it didn't hurt, yet.
The first shot of the game was slow and fluttered at me like a bird, making it an easy glove save. It should have been as easy as the million times I caught a baseball thrown back to me. This one however, started at the glove side, giving me the impression of the easiness of the save, but by five feet away it has crossed my body to the right side. I already positioned myself to catch the slow moving puck with the glove on my left hand, but while momentarily stunned by the unexpected change of course, I awkwardly reached across my body with the glove.
I had just looked like a 2 year old, barely able to walk, being thrown a nerf football. Just like the little tike, I had that goofy, mouth open, no cares in the world, smile on my face, also shitting my pants - clapping my hands together in an attempt to catch the ball, all I got was air.
The puck hit the back of the net as softly as it had floated at me and passed me.
My other goal of note, was originally a save. It was in my glove, but I remember it feeling like a fish out of water, flopping inside the mitt. I snatched my arm up in an effort to silence the flopping, but some how it left my glove and flew into the net.
If you watched it on TV, picture me catching the puck, turning around, taking the puck out of the glove, then punting it into the net like I was kicking a field goal.
The knee still hurts, and I'm terrified to go to the doctor. It would be the smart thing to do, but my friend at work is going to give me acupuncture. He also said to rub olive oil on the skin, then use a comb over it. This should extrapolate old blood and crap that's sitting next to the joint.
What's a comb?
ck
Monday, February 23, 2009
02-23/Chick-Fil-A Trek 09 Volume 1
On a beautiful Saturday, the decision was made to battle city traffic enroute to the Paramus Park Mall. The journey started in Bay Shore, NY, stopping on the West Side of Manhattan, then across the GW to beautiful New Jersey.
Crossing the RFK to join the FDR
After an unexplained stoppage on the FDR, I exited to cross the city over to West End to pick up Paps. After a bathroom break, we loaded up the Passat and began our trek.
'He went to Jared.....' then back again to return it.
We crossed the GW without problem, but route 17 was found to be backed up. After 2 miles of slow go, we saw a group of women protesting in front of a fur store. Coincidentally, this was where the traffic broke up. After we cursed at them, with the windows closed of course, we started our 55 mph drive to Paramus Park. After a short while, we arrived..
"Stand next to your car like a real = = = = = "
We entered the mall, tempted by 50 percent off suits in Macy's. Unrelenting we made our way to the food court.
Then in the distance...
Up the stairs, we had arrived.
Today was a different type of TRIathlon training.
Note: We both got the "deluxe" for an added fee. This consisted of lettuce and a slice of tomato.
Our round 2 sandwiches were regular, and much better without this extra riffraff.
We ate, and then ate again.
Dessert.
"I need Sleepless in Seattle, STAT"
The damage.
It was a fantastic trip, and another chapter in "Here's proof that my life is not great." I foresee a trip much sooner than in a year. The Chick-Fil-A Express at NYU can go suck it.
ck
Crossing the RFK to join the FDR
After an unexplained stoppage on the FDR, I exited to cross the city over to West End to pick up Paps. After a bathroom break, we loaded up the Passat and began our trek.
'He went to Jared.....' then back again to return it.
We crossed the GW without problem, but route 17 was found to be backed up. After 2 miles of slow go, we saw a group of women protesting in front of a fur store. Coincidentally, this was where the traffic broke up. After we cursed at them, with the windows closed of course, we started our 55 mph drive to Paramus Park. After a short while, we arrived..
"Stand next to your car like a real = = = = = "
We entered the mall, tempted by 50 percent off suits in Macy's. Unrelenting we made our way to the food court.
Then in the distance...
Up the stairs, we had arrived.
Today was a different type of TRIathlon training.
Note: We both got the "deluxe" for an added fee. This consisted of lettuce and a slice of tomato.
Our round 2 sandwiches were regular, and much better without this extra riffraff.
We ate, and then ate again.
Dessert.
"I need Sleepless in Seattle, STAT"
The damage.
It was a fantastic trip, and another chapter in "Here's proof that my life is not great." I foresee a trip much sooner than in a year. The Chick-Fil-A Express at NYU can go suck it.
ck
Saturday, February 21, 2009
02-21/First Annual Chick-Fil-A Trek 09
Good news. After a morning of watching 'Sideways,' I've been notified that the first annual Chick-Fil-A Trek 2009 is on!
The depths of despair have now been morphed into 3D......a drive to NJ to get Chick-Fil-A!
stay tuned for the details folks.
ck
The depths of despair have now been morphed into 3D......a drive to NJ to get Chick-Fil-A!
stay tuned for the details folks.
ck
Thursday, February 19, 2009
02-19/He's Not that into Seafood
Ah yes, finally our silver screens have been graced with a beautiful "chick-flick" that pertains to a younger crowd. So far, all we had to go on this year was "Nights in Rodanthe." For me Richard Gere having Raisin Bran with Wheat Germ in the morning, after a night of Viagra banging, doesn't get me as emotional as before.
I heard about the book, "He's Just Not that Into You," a few years back, co-written by that funny man's man Greg Behrendt. He also wrote another 'self help' book called, "It's Called a Breakup because its Broken." I must be living in a fantasy world, because I would have never have guessed that this happens in real life. Thanks Greg!
I won't spoil any surprises, kids. So don't worry.
This movie takes place on the planet of Zuron, where no one eats food, but just drinks fuel called 'Ketel' and 'Guse.' I'd like to say the movie centers on carbon-life GiGi, who just can't get a guy to call her back....Hrmmmph! I hate when that happens!
Justin Long plays Karthod, the un-tucked collared shirt, with tie loose around your neck bar manager, who tells GiGi how it is. Side stories include incredibly hot and married blah blah who is banging incredibly hot blah blah, but is married to cute and sweet-but-suspicious blah blah. He just wasn't ready to get married guys!!!! You know how that goes.
After the warriors of rival planet Zumar storm the rebels with large farm equipment and kitchen appliances, all that is left is Karthod and GiGi, who now love each other and have to procreate to save humanity. Years later, their story is told by the high wizard Menathos, who on the 7th day of every 7th month goes to Mt. Kiriapu and shouts it out to the crowd celebrating below.
In all honesty there was one part that did get me a little emotional, which would ruin the movie if I told you. ( If I haven't said too much already...Shhhh!!! ) It includes my least favorite actors, but it did get to me, which at least made me give in and say, yes I enjoyed the movie.
I'm just glad that Greg was able to get the word out to these ladies. These signs all mean something, duh.
Whatever. Go see it after a nice meal at TGI Friday's.
ck
I heard about the book, "He's Just Not that Into You," a few years back, co-written by that funny man's man Greg Behrendt. He also wrote another 'self help' book called, "It's Called a Breakup because its Broken." I must be living in a fantasy world, because I would have never have guessed that this happens in real life. Thanks Greg!
I won't spoil any surprises, kids. So don't worry.
This movie takes place on the planet of Zuron, where no one eats food, but just drinks fuel called 'Ketel' and 'Guse.' I'd like to say the movie centers on carbon-life GiGi, who just can't get a guy to call her back....Hrmmmph! I hate when that happens!
Justin Long plays Karthod, the un-tucked collared shirt, with tie loose around your neck bar manager, who tells GiGi how it is. Side stories include incredibly hot and married blah blah who is banging incredibly hot blah blah, but is married to cute and sweet-but-suspicious blah blah. He just wasn't ready to get married guys!!!! You know how that goes.
After the warriors of rival planet Zumar storm the rebels with large farm equipment and kitchen appliances, all that is left is Karthod and GiGi, who now love each other and have to procreate to save humanity. Years later, their story is told by the high wizard Menathos, who on the 7th day of every 7th month goes to Mt. Kiriapu and shouts it out to the crowd celebrating below.
In all honesty there was one part that did get me a little emotional, which would ruin the movie if I told you. ( If I haven't said too much already...Shhhh!!! ) It includes my least favorite actors, but it did get to me, which at least made me give in and say, yes I enjoyed the movie.
I'm just glad that Greg was able to get the word out to these ladies. These signs all mean something, duh.
Whatever. Go see it after a nice meal at TGI Friday's.
ck
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
02-18/How does your Garden grow?
I'm back on the lawn thing. Every day that goes by, is another day that I don't have a lawn. I try to water my parent's lawn, but they just tell me not to, because there is a sprinkler system. It's also winter.
Fresh Basil, Thyme, Parsley, Bay leaves, tomatoes - I sometimes don't even like tomatoes. I just want to water them. And my grass.
I've invented a new word - grenth. Grenth is the green factor in grass. If the grenth of my lawn is at a 7 or higher, we're looking pretty good. A grenth of 3 or below means some serious work, almost time for mulch. You can't go wrong with mulch, or one of those compost heaps. I think that if we get to 3 or below, I would start dumping all the house garbage directly onto the front lawn.
Even if I had a 4x4 piece of garden, I would still get a riding lawnmower. I'm sure it would resemble the Austin Power's scene, but there is nothing cooler than stopping the engine, and talking to your neighbor about sports! and how much the roofing work is costing the Conners. I think I'd wear a bandana.
As a child, my grandfather constantly watered. I would also pretend I was a construction worker and chisel out pieces of his driveway that were cracked. Then we would make Sacrete, a simple form of concrete, to fill them in. I also had a fascination with ladders, and constantly wanted to be on one, and work on the house. The amount of damage I did to Omi and Opi's house, must have been in the hundreds of dollars. And he let me do whatever I wanted.
The lawn - a grenth of 10, my neighbor Fabe, constantly peering over the fence as I sunbathe naked, all seems like a wonderful dream to me.
"Nice tomatoes!" he'd say.
ck
Fresh Basil, Thyme, Parsley, Bay leaves, tomatoes - I sometimes don't even like tomatoes. I just want to water them. And my grass.
I've invented a new word - grenth. Grenth is the green factor in grass. If the grenth of my lawn is at a 7 or higher, we're looking pretty good. A grenth of 3 or below means some serious work, almost time for mulch. You can't go wrong with mulch, or one of those compost heaps. I think that if we get to 3 or below, I would start dumping all the house garbage directly onto the front lawn.
Even if I had a 4x4 piece of garden, I would still get a riding lawnmower. I'm sure it would resemble the Austin Power's scene, but there is nothing cooler than stopping the engine, and talking to your neighbor about sports! and how much the roofing work is costing the Conners. I think I'd wear a bandana.
As a child, my grandfather constantly watered. I would also pretend I was a construction worker and chisel out pieces of his driveway that were cracked. Then we would make Sacrete, a simple form of concrete, to fill them in. I also had a fascination with ladders, and constantly wanted to be on one, and work on the house. The amount of damage I did to Omi and Opi's house, must have been in the hundreds of dollars. And he let me do whatever I wanted.
The lawn - a grenth of 10, my neighbor Fabe, constantly peering over the fence as I sunbathe naked, all seems like a wonderful dream to me.
"Nice tomatoes!" he'd say.
ck
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
02-17/Celebs in the News
I have always felt bad for Michael Phelps. But I know what he's going through. To have such world-renowned fame, its tough. 8 Gold medals in Beijing, I once made an un-assisted double play for the 5th grade St. Mel's baseball team, the same year I had 11 points for the basketball team. That's right, a lay-up and 9 - count them - 9 points off free throws.
It reminds me of when I tried a reverse lay-up and it ended up being an air ball. Fortunately, one of the best players in the league was on our team, so he jumped up and layed it in, for a fake alley-oop. I remember pointing at him, because he ignored me, realizing that technically he's supposed to point at me. I pointed at his back while running down the court. I caught up with him to try pointing again, then trying to high five him, a good 15 seconds after the play.
But please, let Michael Phelps be. He was spotted in a strip club. Then they showed him at a football game, with about 3 empty corona cans in front of him. Every time somebody notices him, he's doing something that we all do, but gets a bad rap. Then the bong photo, well...not a great idea, but still, who's the shithead that is selling that. It probably was some jealous fatso, with a mustard stain on his shirt, upset that 6 girls were around him. I was not there.
Chris Brown. Dumbass. Rihanna is one of the nicest, prettiest girls in the business. Not only a moral mistake, but a stupid one. Much like Michael Vick, I don't think these people have any idea of what they have and how they are putting it all in jeopardy. If only at some point Vick had thought, I have an amazing talent from God, that pays me millions of dollars, with all the fame in the world....maybe I shouldn't raise animals to maul each other to the death. It might not look good to the public.
So I propose that Chris Brown's punishment, which is already in full swing by bad press, see what it's like to lose all of that. Instead of a Lamborghini, he should be forced to cruise Northern Blvd. in a 1997 Honda Civic, taking Mary Lopresti to Lenny's Clam Bar. Instead of private jets, put him a middle seat on a flight to Los Angeles, stopping in Columbus and Salt Lake.
I'm all for second chances, I just think people need to understand and respect more what they have.
ck
It reminds me of when I tried a reverse lay-up and it ended up being an air ball. Fortunately, one of the best players in the league was on our team, so he jumped up and layed it in, for a fake alley-oop. I remember pointing at him, because he ignored me, realizing that technically he's supposed to point at me. I pointed at his back while running down the court. I caught up with him to try pointing again, then trying to high five him, a good 15 seconds after the play.
But please, let Michael Phelps be. He was spotted in a strip club. Then they showed him at a football game, with about 3 empty corona cans in front of him. Every time somebody notices him, he's doing something that we all do, but gets a bad rap. Then the bong photo, well...not a great idea, but still, who's the shithead that is selling that. It probably was some jealous fatso, with a mustard stain on his shirt, upset that 6 girls were around him. I was not there.
Chris Brown. Dumbass. Rihanna is one of the nicest, prettiest girls in the business. Not only a moral mistake, but a stupid one. Much like Michael Vick, I don't think these people have any idea of what they have and how they are putting it all in jeopardy. If only at some point Vick had thought, I have an amazing talent from God, that pays me millions of dollars, with all the fame in the world....maybe I shouldn't raise animals to maul each other to the death. It might not look good to the public.
So I propose that Chris Brown's punishment, which is already in full swing by bad press, see what it's like to lose all of that. Instead of a Lamborghini, he should be forced to cruise Northern Blvd. in a 1997 Honda Civic, taking Mary Lopresti to Lenny's Clam Bar. Instead of private jets, put him a middle seat on a flight to Los Angeles, stopping in Columbus and Salt Lake.
I'm all for second chances, I just think people need to understand and respect more what they have.
ck
Monday, February 16, 2009
02-16/Thought Jumbalaya
Single Ladies, by Beyonce, is the weirdest video I have ever seen. They must have done something right, because I watched the whole thing. I got a little nervous when they did the cho- cho train thing during the hook, but still I gazed on, and almost wanted to dance along with them.
I do recall Justin Timberlake and the next attempt at a Chris Farley dressing up as Beyonce's dancers doing a spoof on this video for SNL. And yes I thought it was funny. Does Cameron Diaz still go out with JT? She made a cameo on SNL this week as well.
A moment on SNL.. I think it has gotten much better. You may not notice, but the cast is quite talented and very funny. Fred Armisen, Will Forte, Jason Sudeikis, even that wiener Seth Meyers are all very funny. Kristen Wiig is going to be big, it's her's for the taking if she wants it now that Amy is gone.
And Andy Sandberg. There is much more behind the scenes to this guy. The SNL digital shorts are sometimes the epitome of what comedic writing should be about. Yeah, I know, some of you are going to say that they make no sense. You need to take these digital shorts for what they are, and instead of yap yapping about how "this isn't funny" just zip it and stop analyzing.
Welcome Back Brittany. Thank you for all the new gym music for me. However the only "eyes on me" are when I shake the mirror on the wall when I run on the treadmill.
Oh, and Kelly Clarkson - Thanks....that's just great.
For Raechel, I just want you to know that I will be drinking wine this afternoon and making homemade ravioli. I would like everyone to check out Raechel's food blog, which whisks food and funny - see how I added "whisk" in there. I am not going to look up how to spell whisk, so if it's wrong I'm going to leave it up anyway.
Raechel's link is on the top right of my page, and right here. http://engineeringaconnoisseur.blogspot.com/
ck
I do recall Justin Timberlake and the next attempt at a Chris Farley dressing up as Beyonce's dancers doing a spoof on this video for SNL. And yes I thought it was funny. Does Cameron Diaz still go out with JT? She made a cameo on SNL this week as well.
A moment on SNL.. I think it has gotten much better. You may not notice, but the cast is quite talented and very funny. Fred Armisen, Will Forte, Jason Sudeikis, even that wiener Seth Meyers are all very funny. Kristen Wiig is going to be big, it's her's for the taking if she wants it now that Amy is gone.
And Andy Sandberg. There is much more behind the scenes to this guy. The SNL digital shorts are sometimes the epitome of what comedic writing should be about. Yeah, I know, some of you are going to say that they make no sense. You need to take these digital shorts for what they are, and instead of yap yapping about how "this isn't funny" just zip it and stop analyzing.
Welcome Back Brittany. Thank you for all the new gym music for me. However the only "eyes on me" are when I shake the mirror on the wall when I run on the treadmill.
Oh, and Kelly Clarkson - Thanks....that's just great.
For Raechel, I just want you to know that I will be drinking wine this afternoon and making homemade ravioli. I would like everyone to check out Raechel's food blog, which whisks food and funny - see how I added "whisk" in there. I am not going to look up how to spell whisk, so if it's wrong I'm going to leave it up anyway.
Raechel's link is on the top right of my page, and right here. http://engineeringaconnoisseur.blogspot.com/
ck
Friday, February 13, 2009
02-13/Spring Training Wheels
Today, pitchers and catchers report for the first day of spring training. We've lasted all winter through an exciting football season - one rivaling the excitement of a drunken visit to the diner, then the dejection of throwing it up later.
Either way, it's time to hear Scott Clark (ABC 7 Sports) get all wacky about Spring Training and what's going on down in Florida. "Oooooh spin spin spin, you wacky thermometer reaching 80 degrees while its 40 in New York!"
I'm sure Scott will take the Florida assignment though, and make Marvel Scott work the desk and practice his fake smile. Meanwhile he's thinking,
"If that asshole wants me to say spin spin spin, I'll spin spin spin a fork through that motha-f**ker's eye."
My Spring Training trip, while painfully lacking something this year, will also include me watching the Metropolitans take on Team Italy. Awesome. As much as I love my Italian friends, the only thing I can pre-empt this trip with is thoughts of how an Italian team might act differently than an American team.
Of course all the pants will be super tight, as the team runs out onto the field. The hats will rest gently on top of thickly gelled back shoulder length hair. The coach will be wearing a suit with a scarf around his neck (credit Paps), and often jumps onto the field to dispute many calls. Even though he will never run out onto the field, he uses many hand gestures resembling confusion and surprise.
In the Florida heat, the players cool themselves by pouring Peroni all over their heads. When a great play is made, they celebrate with kisses on the cheek instead of the standard high five.(credit Matt) For those players that want to make special celebration handshakes, all they do is put on leather moto-cross jackets and make techno dance moves with each other.
If Team Italy does win, I'd like to see the post game interview with an Italian rookie, and a veteran will sneak up behind him smashing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in his face.
I love my Italian friends. Since I'm a good sport I'll describe quickly what it would be like to play Team Germany. (For Sal)
The German team uniform will be all black turtlenecks, and sunglasses. There will be no cheering, however when a nice play is made, the team will clap in unison, while sitting on the bench. Then the coach will scream out "GENUG!" (enough) and the team will stop on the dime and return their hands to their laps.
Those that strike out may be executed.
ck
Either way, it's time to hear Scott Clark (ABC 7 Sports) get all wacky about Spring Training and what's going on down in Florida. "Oooooh spin spin spin, you wacky thermometer reaching 80 degrees while its 40 in New York!"
I'm sure Scott will take the Florida assignment though, and make Marvel Scott work the desk and practice his fake smile. Meanwhile he's thinking,
"If that asshole wants me to say spin spin spin, I'll spin spin spin a fork through that motha-f**ker's eye."
My Spring Training trip, while painfully lacking something this year, will also include me watching the Metropolitans take on Team Italy. Awesome. As much as I love my Italian friends, the only thing I can pre-empt this trip with is thoughts of how an Italian team might act differently than an American team.
Of course all the pants will be super tight, as the team runs out onto the field. The hats will rest gently on top of thickly gelled back shoulder length hair. The coach will be wearing a suit with a scarf around his neck (credit Paps), and often jumps onto the field to dispute many calls. Even though he will never run out onto the field, he uses many hand gestures resembling confusion and surprise.
In the Florida heat, the players cool themselves by pouring Peroni all over their heads. When a great play is made, they celebrate with kisses on the cheek instead of the standard high five.(credit Matt) For those players that want to make special celebration handshakes, all they do is put on leather moto-cross jackets and make techno dance moves with each other.
If Team Italy does win, I'd like to see the post game interview with an Italian rookie, and a veteran will sneak up behind him smashing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in his face.
I love my Italian friends. Since I'm a good sport I'll describe quickly what it would be like to play Team Germany. (For Sal)
The German team uniform will be all black turtlenecks, and sunglasses. There will be no cheering, however when a nice play is made, the team will clap in unison, while sitting on the bench. Then the coach will scream out "GENUG!" (enough) and the team will stop on the dime and return their hands to their laps.
Those that strike out may be executed.
ck
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
02-11/Food Pornography
As my mind slowly deteriorates into mush, I figured why not make some food out of this mush. I've started watching Food Network shows so consistently that I find myself DVR-ing some programs.
It was pointed out, by my mother of all people, how some of these shows are a little seductive. Giada De Laurentiis is commonly known for her Italian cooking, and always shows cleavage. Paired with her attractiveness, it's gets a little hot in my kitchen when she starts cooking and the momentary silence is filled in with smooth slow jazz.
(Hot in my kitchen because I forget about my hot pockets and they burn)
I think I feel more comfortable watching the soft core porn scenes on "Nip/Tuck" with my dad. Even though he gives a vivid play by play commentary, watching Giada with my mother seems dead wrong. I find myself looking for things to break the silence as the porn tracks play showing Giada stir something with vigor.
Bobby Flay seems to not give a shit about anything. I love to watch "Boy Meets Grill" as he cooks food that I would actually eat. However, he seems to be that asshole older brother that would hit you in the head, as you try to concentrate while doing your homework.
Paula Dean is the sweetheart old-southern-mother type. Best known, by no one but me and Matt for her role in "Elizabethtown," her cooking shows are great tutorials for how to make bacon-fat smoothies, and pork sausage/rib casseroles.
Ina Garten hosts a show called "Barefoot Contessa." Feet that are bare, do not appetize me or make me want to make a Caesar salad with her. Her show is also known for the porn tracks, and she edits her show to have her face in the screenshot making alot of "mmmm" and "ahhhh" noises.
http://www.housebeautiful.com/cm/housebeautiful/images/66/1-barefoot-contessa-ina-0608-xlg.jpg
I'm tired of all the weird fish dishes though. There's nothing like the disappointment of an episode revolving around shrimp and talapia pudding.
ck
It was pointed out, by my mother of all people, how some of these shows are a little seductive. Giada De Laurentiis is commonly known for her Italian cooking, and always shows cleavage. Paired with her attractiveness, it's gets a little hot in my kitchen when she starts cooking and the momentary silence is filled in with smooth slow jazz.
(Hot in my kitchen because I forget about my hot pockets and they burn)
I think I feel more comfortable watching the soft core porn scenes on "Nip/Tuck" with my dad. Even though he gives a vivid play by play commentary, watching Giada with my mother seems dead wrong. I find myself looking for things to break the silence as the porn tracks play showing Giada stir something with vigor.
Bobby Flay seems to not give a shit about anything. I love to watch "Boy Meets Grill" as he cooks food that I would actually eat. However, he seems to be that asshole older brother that would hit you in the head, as you try to concentrate while doing your homework.
Paula Dean is the sweetheart old-southern-mother type. Best known, by no one but me and Matt for her role in "Elizabethtown," her cooking shows are great tutorials for how to make bacon-fat smoothies, and pork sausage/rib casseroles.
Ina Garten hosts a show called "Barefoot Contessa." Feet that are bare, do not appetize me or make me want to make a Caesar salad with her. Her show is also known for the porn tracks, and she edits her show to have her face in the screenshot making alot of "mmmm" and "ahhhh" noises.
http://www.housebeautiful.com/cm/housebeautiful/images/66/1-barefoot-contessa-ina-0608-xlg.jpg
I'm tired of all the weird fish dishes though. There's nothing like the disappointment of an episode revolving around shrimp and talapia pudding.
ck
Sunday, February 8, 2009
02-08/We're Talking Baseball
Thinking about how sad it would be to not see CITI on top of the Met's new home facility, we have to be prepared. So I've suggested a list of new sponsors.
Ground Round Field - Steve Famoso is at all Monday Home Games
Winnie Ranigan Field - Mice are part of the mascots
The St. Mel's Ballpark - Priests throw scissors at you during the game
L.A. Looks Stadium - Paps goes for free hair gel night
The field by Baby Gap - CDools says "it's the only thing that fits my in shape body"
Oscar Meyer Field - I like hot dogs
ck
Ground Round Field - Steve Famoso is at all Monday Home Games
Winnie Ranigan Field - Mice are part of the mascots
The St. Mel's Ballpark - Priests throw scissors at you during the game
L.A. Looks Stadium - Paps goes for free hair gel night
The field by Baby Gap - CDools says "it's the only thing that fits my in shape body"
Oscar Meyer Field - I like hot dogs
ck
Thursday, February 5, 2009
02-05/Ricky Stratton
Here's your flashback for the week - Silver Spoons. Ricky Schroeder played Ricky Stratton, the son of a Peter Pan type millionaire. This sexy cast also comprised of Alfonso Ribeiro and the young man we've all come to love, Jason Bateman.
I'll take you through my thought process on how I remembered this show. Follow me.
Laying in bed, inspecting the paint on my ceiling for a good hour, I couldn't sleep. Downstairs, the 65 inch TV was proving its manhood by yelling out the crashes and booms of an alien video game played by my roommate. I had given in to not sleeping for a while, so I put on Top Chef in my room. Stefan won the quickfire by filleting an eel. Ok, TV off.
My mind started wandering again, and I teased myself with spurts of slumber. The 5 minute stints would end abruptly because I was awake enough to realize the onset of a dream. I would shut them down immediately as my semi-lucid mind would wander in those directions, and tonight, I was just not in the mood for them.
Then my roommate, on a break from killing aliens, engaged in a phone conversation that included yelling about bean-counters to an undisclosed party. I was the one that started Zach's late evening Pomegranate and Vodka convention, so I was partly responsible.
"If a company can go without the bean-counters, they are going to utilize that option for cost cutting measures."
Alex came to mind, so I came downstairs for a bathroom break, and to say in pure Ward fashion,
"Hey beancounter, stop yelling."
His retort was a comment about credit cards, and we shared a genuine hearty laugh, and I turned to the stairs. I knew this next attempt at rest was futile, but I was going for it anyway.
Plopping back on the bed, ironically trying to smother my face in the pillow, I heard the phone convo cease, and the aliens went to bed. Ok, we have a shot now, stay focused and think about baseball or something. The soft silence was frightening, because now I had no other distraction from sleep, and was going to give in.
Then I heard, and felt...
vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr followed by
vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr followed by
vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Midway through, I realized the old people that lived behind us were going to bed, using that chair that electronically drives people up the stairs. It vibrated the wall, and was slightly audible, at least enough for me to discern the noise.
Then I thought about how it would be cool to have a whole railroad of these motorized chairs through our house. Instead of having them ascending stairs, why not have them along the floor. I thought of an elaborate network, consisting of three stations, The Living Room ( EmptyPizzaBox Station ), the Kitchen ( Carpeted-Kitchen St.), and the Bathroom ( DirtyDan Memorial Square ).
While I recognize this is highly offensive to people that utilize this type of chair for sincere reasons, I still found it to be funny. Then I thought of Silver Spoons where he drove the train around the house. I fell asleep thinking about Jason Bateman.
So there you go.
ck
I'll take you through my thought process on how I remembered this show. Follow me.
Laying in bed, inspecting the paint on my ceiling for a good hour, I couldn't sleep. Downstairs, the 65 inch TV was proving its manhood by yelling out the crashes and booms of an alien video game played by my roommate. I had given in to not sleeping for a while, so I put on Top Chef in my room. Stefan won the quickfire by filleting an eel. Ok, TV off.
My mind started wandering again, and I teased myself with spurts of slumber. The 5 minute stints would end abruptly because I was awake enough to realize the onset of a dream. I would shut them down immediately as my semi-lucid mind would wander in those directions, and tonight, I was just not in the mood for them.
Then my roommate, on a break from killing aliens, engaged in a phone conversation that included yelling about bean-counters to an undisclosed party. I was the one that started Zach's late evening Pomegranate and Vodka convention, so I was partly responsible.
"If a company can go without the bean-counters, they are going to utilize that option for cost cutting measures."
Alex came to mind, so I came downstairs for a bathroom break, and to say in pure Ward fashion,
"Hey beancounter, stop yelling."
His retort was a comment about credit cards, and we shared a genuine hearty laugh, and I turned to the stairs. I knew this next attempt at rest was futile, but I was going for it anyway.
Plopping back on the bed, ironically trying to smother my face in the pillow, I heard the phone convo cease, and the aliens went to bed. Ok, we have a shot now, stay focused and think about baseball or something. The soft silence was frightening, because now I had no other distraction from sleep, and was going to give in.
Then I heard, and felt...
vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr followed by
vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr followed by
vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Midway through, I realized the old people that lived behind us were going to bed, using that chair that electronically drives people up the stairs. It vibrated the wall, and was slightly audible, at least enough for me to discern the noise.
Then I thought about how it would be cool to have a whole railroad of these motorized chairs through our house. Instead of having them ascending stairs, why not have them along the floor. I thought of an elaborate network, consisting of three stations, The Living Room ( EmptyPizzaBox Station ), the Kitchen ( Carpeted-Kitchen St.), and the Bathroom ( DirtyDan Memorial Square ).
While I recognize this is highly offensive to people that utilize this type of chair for sincere reasons, I still found it to be funny. Then I thought of Silver Spoons where he drove the train around the house. I fell asleep thinking about Jason Bateman.
So there you go.
ck
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